


An Unexpected Surprice

by Annemarie01



Series: Married with Troubles [3]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders pestering Cullen, Daddy Fenris, F/M, Fluff, Hawke pestering everyone else, Humour, Love, Miss Ivy, Romance, Sex, Unplanned Pregnancy, birth-by-surprise, butterflies all around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-05-19 12:11:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19356793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annemarie01/pseuds/Annemarie01
Summary: Something strange is going on with Hawke and a concerned Fenris wants to know what. They both will be highly surprised when they find out about the what, and why. The 'how' is obvious but nonetheless bothersome... although...You're welcome to read and find out!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A note for you who haven't read the former stories: after Meredith had wrecked the Gallows and a Tevinter army almost took over Kirkwall, Aveline has been made Viscount, Cullen is the new Knight Commander and Anders, being freed of the nagging Justice, has risen to the title of First Enchanter. 
> 
> We pick up where we left our dear couple...
> 
> Enjoy!

 

An Unexpected Surprise

 

Chapter 1

 

_Several weeks after all the excitement_

 

   
  
---  
  
'Is Albran still not awake?’ Orana sounded innocently surprised. ‘I mean, we all know she’s not an early riser but it’s close to mid-day by now and normally she’s up and about around this time. If only because she craves for her morning coffee.’ She looked expectantly at Fenris who sat silently at the kitchen table, absentmindedly munching his breakfast. Just like his wife he wasn’t a morning person though usually he got out of bed before her. It had become a habit to bathe and dress while he let her sleep just a while longer. Especially after all that had happened. She deserved her rest. Normally, though, she would join him at the breakfast table with a yawned “Good morning” and come alive halfway her first mug of coffee. Would it be close to suicide to disturb her brittle peace before that, after those precious first sips she suddenly was able to face the whole world and all the ugly problems it threw at her. And yes, normally at this time of day she would have come to life.

Fenris looked up, slightly confused.

He had been pleasantly surprised to hear Orana call her employer  “Albran” without the appalling additive “Mistress”. He cocked his head, the hand that had taken an apple from the fruit basket sitting on the table hovering halfway his mouth.

‘It is rather late, even for her, I give you that. Not completely her style.’ He caught the twinkle in Orana’s eyes and assumed it wasn’t hard to guess what she was thinking. Making love all night could wear a person completely out. But he knew that hadn’t been the case. Not this time. Albran had been asleep before her head had hit the pillow. He put the apple back and tried fervently not to turn red under Orana’s amused scrutinizing eyes.

‘I will check on her. And take a cup of coffee with me,’ he added hastily, knowing how much she hated to be hauled out of her bed but could be mollified with just the scent of the precious black liquid.

Little he knew the mischievous smile on Orana’s face had had nothing to do with what did or did not happen the previous night.

 

‘Albran, love.’ Fenris had put the mug with steaming coffee down on the side-table next to the bed and gently poked her. ‘Don’t you think you have slept enough by now? Time to wake up.’

He was met with a grumpily groan. She stirred but didn’t reply. He carried on courageously.

‘There are invitations you have to turn down and Varric wants to know if we will be present at this night of wicked grace.’ He made that last part up, knowing it would kindle her interest. She was always in for a game of wicked grace, if only to gloat upon the distraught if not wounded look the dwarf threw her when she managed to beat him at the game. Not so this morning.

‘I want to sleep,’ she murmured sulkily and hid her face in the pillow.

Right. Time to try another approach. He sat down on the side of the bed and drew his fingers slowly through her dishevelled hair. He bent over her and mumbled into her ear, ‘I brought you coffee.’ He paused for a moment and let his voice drop a few notches to the soft rumbling resonating level he knew she couldn’t resist. ‘And if you don’t want that, I can provide you with some other – alluring features.’

To his nasty surprise she swatted his hand away and pulled at the blankets in an attempt to cover her head. ‘I _said_ , I want to sleep.’ This time she sounded outright irritated.

Not used to this kind of response to his seductive voice he lost his patience and stood up at once. His manly pride was hurt. ‘It is already too late to _sleep_ late, ’ he growled fractiously and hauled with a swift and angry gesture the covers from her lovely frame.

‘Oh bloody hell,’ she countered crossly. She sat up with a jolt and glared spitefully at him. ‘Okay, have it your way.’ She jumped out of bed and threw her arms wide with a dramatic gesture. ‘There. Out of bed. Happy now?’

He had no time to admire her beautiful naked body because she staggered violently not a moment later.

Suddenly her vision became blurred. Everything started to whirl around her and a fountain of white stars exploded behind her eyes. She swayed, desperately trying to keep her equilibrium; she heard Fenris say something but his voice seemed to come from another dimension. She took an uncertain step forward, tripped over her own feet and collapsed.

Despite his shock Fenris reacted in an instant and was just in time to catch her. He lowered her gently on the bed, still holding her close and she leaned her head heavily against his shoulder. Concerned he put a hand on her forehead but could not feel a disturbing rise of temperature. ‘Are you ill? You don’t feel feverish.’ He sounded troubled.

Even in her drowsily condition she, on her turn, managed to sound annoyed. ‘Of course I’m not ill. I just stood up too fast. That’s what you get when you want to drag me out of bed against my will.’ She didn’t convince him and she knew it. She didn’t even convince herself. ‘And I’m hungry,’ she added lamely.

He raised his brow in confusion. Even if that were true, her behaviour was still strange. But if it took just some food to deal with her extremely foul mood this morning, or near afternoon, he would see to it she would receive it to get her back on her feet. ‘That can be remedied. Just stay here, I will get you something to eat.’ He tucked her in again and smiled charmingly. ‘Breakfast in bed, how about that.’ She didn’t reply and he worriedly hurried out of the bedroom.

When he returned with a tray laden with bread, fruit and a plate with Orana’s unsurpassed scrambled eggs, he found her leaning back against the headboard with her knees pulled up and wearing an expression that lingered somewhere between frustration and remorse. He noticed she hadn’t touched her coffee and frowned.

‘I’m sorry I yelled at you,’ she said meekly, ‘I don’t know what came over me. After all, you were right.’ She didn’t explain what exactly he had been right about. ‘I, er, I tried to get up once more but almost fainted all over again. I really must be hungry.’

Fenris frowned some more. _Must_ be hungry? She couldn’t say for sure? But he plastered a smile upon his face and handed her the plate with the scrambled eggs. ‘Here you go,’ he said jovially, ‘and I see the coffee has gone cold. I’ll fetch you a new cup.’

Albran wrinkled her nose in disgust. ‘Don’t bother,’ she said, ‘I don’t feel like coffee this morning.’ In fact the mere aroma had almost made her nauseous.

Now he got really alarmed but he tried not to show it. ‘Tea?’ he suggested weakly. At the same time he decided he would consult Anders if she’d take this any further. He almost wanted to shout out loud, ‘Who are you and what have you done to my wife?!’

She gave him a lopsided smile. ‘Tea would be nice.’ At the same time she stuffed her mouth with the scrambled eggs but stopped eating after a few bites. Instead she started to move the pieces of fried eggs listlessly along the plate with her fork. ‘It’s a lot of food,’ she murmured.

‘You said you were hungry,’ Fenris reacted testily. There definitely was something horribly wrong and he wished he knew what it was.

‘I am not hungry anymore,’ Albran stated firmly and put the plate on the side-table next to the untouched mug of coffee.

Fenris could just restrain himself from  screaming at her by biting his lip until it bled. But in the end he managed to get her out of bed and to persuade her to get dressed. He brought her a cup of tea which she accepted gracefully and with an apologetically smile that melted his heart.

‘You’re the best that ever happened to me,’ she assured him, ‘I love you so much.’ She kissed him warmly and he was willing to forgive her anything.

 

But he felt not that forgiving anymore when the same scene got repeated the next day and the day after that and again on the fourth day. He grew extremely vexed if not mortally afraid and his patience waned visibly. He completely missed the increasing fun Orana and Bodahn shared, each time he returned to the kitchen to get some food or drink Albran had ordered and turned down the moment he had brought it to her.

‘They still don’t get it, do they,’ the dwarf smirked after Fenris had disappeared for the umpteenth time, with a thunderous and at the same time very concerned expression flinging down an untouched dish of apple-pie and taking an unpeeled orange instead upstairs.

Orana very hard tried not to laugh out loud. ‘They will find out soon enough. I hope.’ She beamed impishly. ‘Perhaps it would have been better if she had had the morning sickness. That always helps to trigger the mind.’ She giggled. ‘I’m afraid that if this goes on some longer we will have to tell them.’ And finally she couldn’t avoid that explosion of laughter. ‘Maker, who would have thought that two people so worldly-wise could be so naïve and ignorant.’

‘Cinnamon buns?’ Sandal offered, the moment the desperate elf returned from another unsuccessful mission. He let his words accompany with a broad innocent, though somewhat uncertain smile.

Fenris started to scowl at the small dwarf but immediately changed his mind and demeanour. He realised the current mess wasn’t the boy’s fault. He sighed and sank down on a chair. He shot Sandal a tired smile. ‘Why not. Everything else failed.’

 

‘All right, I’ve had it,’ Fenris said on the fifth morning, after he had got her with much effort and resistance on her part dressed for the day. ‘I’m taking you to Anders right now.’

‘There’s absolutely no need,’ Albran started stubbornly.

‘I said _now_!’ Fenris shouted angrily. He grabbed her arm and without further ado he dragged her through the cellars to the clinic where he knew the healer held consulting hours during the morning.

All the way down there she protested indignantly but he paid her no heed. ‘Just shut up,’ he finally snapped while he hauled her through the door.

Inwardly he thanked whatever deity was listening the clinic was empty. Apparently nowadays even the people living in Darktown found their way to the Gallows -  the Free Circle, he corrected himself, to find cure for their illness or injuries. The word had spread like a wildfire. Undercity habitants accepted at the posh, if even still half ruined Gallows, was a happening apparently everyone liked to experience. Even the ones who weren’t sick or injured, he suspected. In an absent way he noticed the clinic was swept clean and the brand-new, though empty cots where covered with bright white sheets. It even smelled nice. A vague aroma of lavender entered his nostrils.

Anders looked up from the tome he had been studying at the solid oaken writing desk that had replaced the smashed flimsy old one. He stood and stared confused from one to the other. Even, or better especially, after he had become the First Enchanter, he cherished the early morning hours in his clinic. Probably because it was the only time he could find some peace and quiet. Or perhaps to get some familiar and reliable foothold in his overwhelming new world. ‘What seems to be the problem?’

‘You tell me,’ Fenris snarled, ‘or better: her.’ He pushed Albran in Anders’s direction. ‘For five days now she can hardly drag herself out of bed in the mornings. She is complaining about being dead tired and she gets dizzy all the time. She says she’s hungry but doesn’t want to eat. Look how pale she is! Don’t say this is normal. And she doesn’t like coffee anymore!’ he ended his rant as if playing his trump cart. He frowned and added, ‘I’m deeply worried but she won’t have it.’ He looked angrily at her. ‘Stubborn woman.’

Anders cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. ‘Is this true Hawke?’

Albran grumbled morosely something about a storm in a tea cup and overprotecting marbari behaviour but didn’t deny the charges.

‘You’d better lie down then so I can examine you.’

With a face like a thunderstorm she followed his order and lay down on one of the new cots and grudgingly let Anders do his work. ‘This better be worth my time,’ she said ominously to both her husband and the healer. ‘I keep telling you, there’s nothing wrong with me.’ Fenris glared darkly back.

After a few minutes Anders stood straight with a tiny and amused smile on his face. He scratched the back of his head.

‘What?’ Hawke asked, sitting up. ‘Why are you smiling like that? What’s so funny?’

Anders tried to keep a straight face. ‘When was your last period?’

‘What has that to do with it,’ she bit back, if possible getting more exasperated.

Anders sighed, rolling his eyes. ‘Just answer the question, Hawke. It can’t be that difficult.’

She clasped her hands in her lap and looked annoyed. ‘I don’t know. So many things happened, I didn’t pay it much attention. Probably last month.’ She was silent for a while and frowned contemplatively while she did the math. ‘Or the month before ...’ Her expression suddenly became confused. She thought for a few moments longer. ‘Or perhaps a couple of months; it, it _could_ be two ... not long before our actual wedding day ... but not after I think. That was ...’ She stopped talking when the implications hit home. Her eyes grew wide. ‘Oh fuck.’ And realized at the same moment the stupidity of that particular swearword.

A big grin bloomed on Anders’s face. ‘That’s what I figured. Nice expression by the way, very accurate.’ She wanted to strangle him but only managed to stare breathlessly. He paused for a moment to let the effect fully kick in. ‘Congratulations Hawke. You’re pregnant.’ From the corner of his eye he saw Fenris become completely rigid. With a lot of effort he smothered an upcoming hearty laugh.

Hawke jumped from the cot and stared at him with panic. She had to hold on to the small bed to keep her balance. ‘What? That can’t be! How is that possible?!”

‘Weeeell,’ Anders began with a naughty twinkle in his eyes, ‘when two people love each other very much –‘

‘I know that!’ she cut him short with an aggravated growl. ‘Don’t give me that crap; I’m not a child! I mean, how can I be pregnant so out of the blue? I never even gave it a thought! This cannot be true! I wasn’t expecting this!’

Anders grinned broadly. ‘On the contrary I should say –‘

‘Shut up!’ Hawke yelled. ‘Don’t you dare to utter that stupid pun!’ And suddenly she burst into tears. With an aggressive twirl she turned to Fenris and pointed an accusing finger at her bewildered husband. ‘This is all but your fault!’ she wailed while the tears flowed down her face.

The poor elf, completely stunned already by Anders’s declaration, became even more upset. He looked helplessly at the First Enchanter.

‘Welcome to the wonderful world of mood swings,’ the mage chortled with wicked glee. ‘I should get used to it if I were you. It will last for about half a year. At least.’ 

Fenris stepped over to his wife and closed her in his arms. ‘I’m, er, sorry?’ he volunteered, absolutely not knowing what else to say.

Heatedly she pummelled his chest. ‘You idiot!’ she yelled. ‘Why would you be sorry? How can you say such a thing! _Are_ you sorry? Aren’t you happy with it? You told me you wanted to have lots of babies and now I’m pregnant with the first you’re not happy with it,’ she whined. And wept some more.

‘I, er, yes of course I’m happy with it,’ he stuttered. _At least I think I will be when this overwhelming news has got through to me._ His own words, uttered after the wondrous lovemaking in the former Viscount’s ridiculous large bathtub ricocheted and hit his mind. _I want to grow old with you and have lots of little babies._ She was right. Now the first of the row he had wished for was on the way he panicked. Though apparently he wasn’t the only one. He coughed awkwardly. ‘But it seems you aren’t.’ He sounded completely forlorn. _And please stop crying._

She leant into his frame. ‘But I am,’ she declared with emphasis, ‘it’s just so sudden and strange and startling.’ _You don’t mean._ She looked up at him and smiled through her tears. ‘Daddy Fenris,’ she said and started giggling uncontrollably.

‘Yes, I agree,’ Fenris said desperately, ‘it’s very funny.’ He drew his fingers through her hair. ‘Perhaps it’s best I take you home and make you a cup of tea? And then we can try to digest this information.’

She pushed him away. ‘Don’t patronise me!’ she shouted furiously.

He staggered a step back. Yes, she had stopped crying but this was no improvement.

And then Anders burst out laughing.

They both looked at him, totally befuddled, forgetting all about their silly argument.

‘What ..?’ they asked in united irritation.

Anders wasn’t able to utter an understandable word for quite a while but finally he managed, ‘I believe Orana has won the bet.’

Albran and Fenris looked first puzzled at each other before they turned their guarded attention back to the hiccupping mage. ‘Meaning?’ Fenris asked cautiously.

‘Oh, for the Maker’s sake,’ Anders hooted, ‘it was so obvious Albran is pregnant! We all knew it. We all placed bets on when you finally would find out!’

Hawke narrowed her eyes. ‘What do you mean, _it was so obvious_? I haven’t even been sick!’

‘You will be surprised at the number of women who don’t suffer from the notorious morning disease,’ Anders grinned, ‘but the way you have been behaving of late spoke volumes.’ He crumbled a little under her murderous glare. ‘Let us say your, er, colourful character has become even more flamboyant. In fact, we have been wondering how long Fenris would be able to cope with it before he would snap and try to do something about it. You yourself would not admit something’s the matter even if you were lying on your deathbed.’

She glowered daggers at him. ‘So you say I have been acting like a monster.’

‘Well, that’s perhaps a bit exaggerated, but –‘

‘No, you haven’t at all,’ Fenris interrupted the mage resolutely, ‘strange, yes, but absolutely not like a monster.’ He shot Anders a fierce look.

‘That’s brilliant,’ Albran scoffed, ‘apparently I’ve been the laughing stock of all of my friends. My _so-called_ friends,’ she added venomously.’ She turned on her heels. ‘I’ve heard enough. Come on, Fenris, let’s go home. That is, if you can stomach my _flamboyant_ behaviour.’ And she stomped off. Fenris followed her but not after he had given the mage something that could only be described as the evil eye.

After they had left, Anders once again burst out in a fit of roaring laughter.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been sick during my pregnancies and I know of many women who haven been either. So I always am a little sceptical when a pregnancy is announced with a lot of throwing up. It sounds a little like some kind of myth. Neverhteless I've heard of women who hardly are able to leave to bathroom for months in a row and to them I like to apologize. I feel for you. Being pregnant should be fun, not a predicament!
> 
> For the rest, thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning in advance: there will be sex. Quite a lot of it. Somewhat confusing sex too, messy sex. And also sticky.  
> Curious? Well, read and find out!

Fenris stood silently at the window of the Viscount’s office, waiting for the Viscountess herself. The new Viscountess named Aveline. He admired her for the grace and ease with which she had accepted the position; it had to be demanding, handling the problems of the city on a daily basis, even with Anders as the new First Enchanter and Cullen as the new Knight Commander. A real pain in the ass and a weight upon the shoulders but she managed without outwardly showing any stress or tiredness. Of course she did; if anyone knew the meaning of duty and took it seriously it was her. She was so much better at organising, delegating, taking decisions, well, in short so much better a Viscount than Dumar ever had been and Meredith ever could have hoped to become. After all the calamities and stressful events that had happened, she was exactly what Kirkwall needed, he mused. If not for her ferocious way of defending the city under the vile Tevinter attack, then for her always steadfast demeanour.

His eyes wandered over the garden; even in mid-winter the place didn’t look like a barren wasteland due to the collection of evergreen trees and shrubs that had been planted times ago. A few gardeners were collecting the last of the fallen leaves and another one was trimming the lavender bushes so they could bloom in full glory next summer.

He turned when Aveline entered the room. ‘I’m sorry I let you wait for this long, Fenris,’ she said apologetically, ‘but the Seneschal has the tendency to wail and whine about every lost pencil and to make a big issue out of it. What can I do for you?’ She indicated the chair opposite her desk. ‘Please take a seat. Do you fancy a glass of wine? I know I do.’ With a heavy sigh she slumped into her chair. But not before she managed to grasp a bottle and two glasses.

‘I do as well, thank you,’ Fenris replied thankfully while sitting down. He waited until she had filled two glasses and proffered him one. He took up his courage after a sip of the rich red liquid. ‘You asked me once to train your men in the technique of Tevinter fighting,’ he started hesitantly, ‘does that offer still stands?’

Aveline cocked her brow. ‘You declined back then. With vicious force, as I remember. What has changed your mind?’

He put the glass back on the desk and avoided her eyes. ‘As you know I’m going to have a family very soon.’ He snorted derisively. ‘I suppose the whole of Kirkwall know about that right now.’ He picked up the glass again and took another small sip. He waltzed the wine around. All the while Aveline studied his face that wasn’t as broody as it used to be but still was hard to read. ‘I want to provide for them on my own accord. At least I suppose the, er, job comes with a stipend ..?’

She looked at him, tried to comprehend him and when she did she could hardly suppress an approving smile. In the end it turned out he wasn’t that difficult to comprehend. But she decided to play it hard. Or at least to make him sweat. ‘You know Hawke could buy the whole of Kirkwall if she wished so ..?’ She let the question hover in the air and found it very educating to witness the way he tried to stay as composed as possible. Sometimes it was fun to be a tease.

‘Yes, I’m aware of that. But it’s _her_ money, not mine. Like I said, I want to provide for my – wife and child myself. Call it old-fashioned or stupid male pride but –‘

Aveline interrupted him with a gesture of her hand and laughed wholeheartedly. ‘No Fenris, I don’t see it that way! I completely understand. In fact, I think it’s most admirable.’ She took in his relieved and slightly bemused expression and grinned broadly.

‘Congratulations, Fenris, you have the job. And yes, it comes with a stipend.’ She thought for a short moment. It was her task – or freedom – to come up with the pay. Or better, the reward. ‘Fifteen sovereigns a month.’ She knew it was an outrageous amount of money. Seneschal Bran would have a heart attack and she couldn’t care less. Her grin broadened even more. ‘Welcome to the so-called exclusive club of Guardsmen. I expect you to make your appearance first thing in the morning.’ She caught his somewhat alarmed look and laughed a little louder. ‘Yes, Fenris, I know you’re not a morning person but we function around the clock and the exercises start at the break of day.’

Fenris nodded appreciatively. ‘I understand. And I will be here tomorrow morning. At daybreak.’ He shot her a fragile smile. ‘Thank you.’

She raised her glass. ‘You’re more than welcome.’

-

When he opened the door to the mansion, he could already hear Albran yell in distress. He cursed almost out loud. _Fasta vass, what has driven her into this state_ this _time?_ He knew in the meantime that it took little to nothing to let her have a fit of anger or weeping.

He rushed to the first floor where her voice came from and entered the room that was supposed to become the nursery. Albran was stumping her foot while she lashed out at Orana who stood firm, ostensibly unperturbed, but his blood started to boil while he was taking in the scene. He wondered how much more he was willing to accept from her frequently outrageous behaviour. Pregnant or not, she couldn’t be allowed just anything; she really could be insufferable and this time she crossed the line.

‘I _told_ you I wanted the green cloth for the crib,’ Hawke screamed, ‘so how can you decide on buying that horrendously blue velvet to make curtains out of it! It doesn’t fit at all! And really, velvet? _Velvet_ for a nursery?! I want cotton! What in Andraste’s name were you thinking, you horrible girl!’

Without a second thought he harshly grabbed her arm and hauled her unceremoniously out of the room and downstairs into the parlour, seething with rage and completely missing the hardly suppressed little smile playing around Orana’s lips.

‘I don’t care if you hurl insults at me or Anders but I won’t have you bawling at Orana like she were a, a _slave_!’ He shouted the word with much more repulsion and emphasis than he had intended. The result was as obvious as it was predictable.

Albran got a shocked look in her eyes when realisation dawned on her. She crumbled on the sofa in front of the fire-place and buried her face in  her palms. Her shoulders shook; in fact, her whole body started to shake. His anger dissolved at the mere sight of her anguish and got replaced with dread.

_Please don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t start crying, don’t start – damn it, too late._

Remorsefully he sat down next to her and drew her into his arms when the inevitable tears began to run down her face. ‘I’m sorry love, I shouldn’t have yelled at you.’ Anything to calm her down. _Everything_ to calm her down.

‘No,’ she sobbed, ‘you are right. I acted like a, like a _magister_.’ She spat that last word with so much disgust that all he could do was cringe.

‘Don’t say that,’ he croaked desperately. He wanted to smack himself. He should have handled this much more tactfully.

‘But I did,’ she blubbered. She heaved her head and he tried to wipe the tears away. She didn’t let him. ‘I have to apologize to Orana,’ she sniffed while she rose, irritably rubbing at her moist cheeks. When she turned around she already found the small elf standing at the foot of the stairs.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Albran said meekly, ‘I never should have flown at you. For what’s it worth, I didn’t mean what I said. I consider you my best friend. Not my servant, let alone my _slave_!’ And again she broke out in tears.

Orana moved over to her and patted her arm. Over Albran’s crooked body she threw a fiery look at Fenris that nailed him down and said more or less: _How could you, you idiot._ He made an impotent gesture back and thought involuntarily, _how am I supposed to know what to do, you bloody woman._ And after that thought, ‘ _How am I supposed to comprehend any of your actions? From the both of you?_ With dulled attention he witnessed the next scene.

‘Oh come now, Albran,’ Orana reacted soothingly to his wife’s tears and in the meantime she gave her an amused lopsided grin. ‘It’s quite alright, don’t feel bad about it. We all know what hormones can do to women. Especially expecting women.’

 _Indeed_ , Fenris thought viciously in the privacy of his mind, _thank the Maker Hadriana never got pregnant_. But he was wise enough not to say that out loud, not even as a teasing, rather bad joke. He didn’t even want to _think_ of what that might bring about.

‘That’s no excuse,’ Hawke spluttered in the meantime, ‘Anders is right, I’ve turned into a monster.’

Fenris groaned inwardly and firmly resolved to give the mage a black eye the first time he ran into him, First Enchanter or not. ‘Nonsense,’ he reacted vehemently, ‘you’re just – off balance now and again.’ Over his wife’s head he looked pleadingly at Orana who winked back at him.

‘Let’s go back to the nursery and you can explain to me what exactly you want with the room.’ She took Albran’s arm and gently started leading her to the stairs. ‘I’m certain we can find another use for the velvet. Perhaps if we ...’ her voice trailed off while she together with Albran disappeared back into the nursery.

Fenris slumped back on the couch. Just five more months to go. He hoped he would survive it.

-

When Fenris returned to the estate after a long morning of a hard training session, the house seemed to be deserted. Even Rascal didn’t storm into the parlour to greet him. He had already washed the sweat and grime off his body and changed into trousers and a loose shirt at the barracks. He went to the kitchen to see if Albran was there to stuff herself with the somewhat tart tasting little apple pies she was crazy about at the moment. No-one was present, not even the servants. He took the stairs two steps at the time and ran straight to the nursery where he expected to find her but the room was empty. He thought it very strange and frowned.

‘Albran!’ he called. ‘Are you home?’ Nothing. With a disappointed sigh he walked to the bedroom to fetch the book he had left on the desk last night. If she wasn’t in, he could as well pass the time with some reading.

She was waiting for him behind the door of the bedchamber and caught, or rather ensnared him the moment he walked inside. She left him no time for thinking but dragged him to their bed and before he knew what was happening, she had thrown him on the mattress and had tied his hands to one of the bedposts and blindfolded him.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked alarmed, doubting whether he enjoyed this action and would like to go along with this sudden display of curious want, or would word a strong denial. He was especially anxiously wondering what had brought her to this. Declining her, however, could prove to be lethal. He had grown very wary over the last months.

‘I thought you agreed on me taking the lead in our next exiting play of bondage,’ he heard her say, ‘you said you trusted me.’

He swallowed hard. ‘I do trust you,’ he replied hoarsely, still not knowing to feel excited or frightened, ‘I only wished you would have announced your intentions before you pounced upon me.’

‘That would have spoiled all the fun,’ she said determinedly. There was a short silence. ‘Now, what shall I do with you. Or rather do _to_ you?’ He waited tensely for her next action. He could but just avoid his markings to light up. There was another silence, followed by a much less confident, ‘You don’t want to do this at all, do you.’ He felt her fumble with the blindfold. ‘I approached this all wrongly, didn’t I? I’m sorry, stupid idea. I will release you right away.’

With all the shed tears and furious cries clearly in mind and because of, despite the confusing surprise, the now rising arousal, he said, ‘No, don’t. You’re right, if you’d announced it, it _would_ have spoiled all the fun. If I had informed you about what I was planning the moment I tied you to this very bedpost, I don’t think the outcome would have been that exalting.’

He realised it wasn’t exactly the most brilliant opening line to an exhilarating evening of love making, and, besides that, he had to admit he was growing curious. But before he could make an apology, she crushed her lips upon his and he forgot everything he had wanted to say. He welcomed her tongue that entwined heatedly with his. He wanted to embrace her but at the very moment found the limits of the soft silk shackles with which she had bound him. He almost reared frustrated but then felt her fingertips tenderly and at the same time with enticing pressure drawing down his body. She shredded his shirt with evident satisfaction and he could just _feel_ her content smile. She touched every taut muscle from his collarbone down to his feet with admiring attention, leaving hot traces on his skin. On her way back up she ripped away his trousers and smallclothes with one experienced movement. His breath hitched.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ she whispered and her hot breath wrapped around his torso, making him moan. Once more he bucked, the moment she teasingly lightly caressed his prancing cock with almost hesitant fingers and touched the tip lightly with her lips. Of course he hadn’t seen it coming and she overwhelmed him.

He felt her move away but it only took a few moments before he sensed her – he knitted his brows under the blindfold, do what? – rub something upon his chest and abdomen. It smelled sweet and felt creamy.

‘I always wanted to do this,’ her sultry voice whispered, more husky than ever. It made him quiver. ‘I confess I got the idea from Isabela but since the moment she mentioned whipped cream, I had this vision of you covered with the stuff and me licking it off of you.’

‘Did you really have to tie me up for doing that?’ he intended to ask but his voice got stuck in his throat when her tongue lapped his nipples, slowly circling around each of them. It gave him gooseflesh. She hummed approvingly while that same wicked tongue descended down his body, licking sensually every inch of skin where she apparently had spread the sweet substance. She made a show of working on his bellybutton with feather light movements with the tip of her tongue; he had a hard time not to shred the bonds.

‘She was right,’ he heard her mumble, ‘you don’t even have to like whipped cream to love this.’

Silently he agreed. He wondered if she was aware he not only could tear up the silk just like that or even more simply phase through the cloth. He decided she did but expected him to play along. This was a game about trust, after all.

He felt her reach over him and then she touched his lips with a piece of fruit he recognised as a wild strawberry.

‘I know you like apples but I thought this more appropriate,’ she hummed in his ear, gracefully pushing the small red delicacy in his mouth. He eagerly accepted and was more than surprised when her tongue followed. She slowly twirled the strawberry around before she withdrew and pecked his lips. ‘Enjoy.’

Her breath stroking the shell of his ear almost drove him wild. And again he could feel her smile. He chewed and she licked the escaping juice off the corner of his mouth with a slow swirl of her tongue. For some reason it tremendously turned him on.

She shifted her body and her hands travelled through his unruly hair, making an even bigger muddle of it. She kissed the top of his head. One of her naked breasts stroked his cheek and with a deftly manoeuvre he caught the nipple between his teeth and bit gently. She moaned in surprise and retreated immediately.

‘I’m in charge.’

She tried to sound stern but he heard the breathless sigh behind her words. He couldn’t help grinning. Next he found her nibbling his ear and not for the first time she stole his breath away. ‘I think this is an appropriate punishment,’ she said lowly. He almost choked when her warm voice hit him. She chuckled softly which didn’t do anything to ease his mind. On the other hand, he didn’t want his mind to be eased. Out of instinct he closed his eyes though that wasn’t necessary with the blindfold, and let her next actions come over him with delight.

Yes, he trusted her. He completely trusted her. It didn’t even astonish him.

She rested her hands on his chest and roved the skin of his neck, throat and shoulders with heated kisses. Her moist lips moved tantalisingly slow down his body and he let out a deep groan when they finally closed around his hard member. She grazed the sensitive tip and he couldn’t help grunting out her name. Skilfully she sucked his shaft with a hunger that only kindled his arousal more while she buried her fingers in the tight muscles of his behind. He could but just prevent a mighty orgasm. ‘Albran,’ he rasped throatily, ‘please, I want to come inside you.’

She let go of his firm cock and straddled him. Her soft laugh almost deprived him of his senses. Her hands once again caressed his chest and at the same moment she dipped the tip of his nearly exploding shaft into her wet expecting core and retreated at the same time. She hesitated on purpose, letting him feel the tempting heat of her desire. He cried out when she suddenly pushed him inside her and he felt her drenched sheath welcome him home and embrace him. He could hear her gasp. She bent over him and untied his silk bonds and blindfold.

‘I’m tired of this game,’ she whimpered, ‘I miss your hands.’

He seized the occasion and grabbed her sides with eager fingers while she covered his mouth with hers and started a frenzied kiss. He sensed the slight swell of her belly against his abdomen, the place where their child lived and grew; it filled him with pride and gratitude and for some strange reason with even more heat. He eagerly roamed her soft silken skin and started pounding inside her. He moved gently at first while his tongue devoured her mouth. His one hand cupped a firm swollen breast while the other focused on the sensitive spot just above her hot wet folds. His fingers rubbed her swollen pearl and she moaned in his mouth. She broke the kiss to take a gulp of air and with a sob hid her face in the crook of his shoulder. She speeded up the tempo of their lovemaking while she clasped her fingers around his shoulders.

‘I love you!’ she cried out in tears when her body came apart and she got hurled into the swirl of a mind numbing outburst that hit her as if all of her senses exploded. ‘Maker, Fenris, I love you so much!’

He wasn’t able to answer her because at the same time he got caught in an impossible overwhelming peak himself; he could only get as far as to croak her name while his body erupted with pure and unimaginable bliss.

It seemed to take ages before they were able to do more than pant and hold on frantically to each other. At last she burst into a shivering laugh. She indicated a few bowls sitting on the side table next to the bed. ‘I had so much more in store for you,’ she giggled shakily, ‘ice cubes that have been melted by now, I suppose, and chocolate sauce and, yes, even slices of those sour-sweet tasting apples you love so much. Drenched in caramel no less. I suppose I ran out of patience.’

If possible he pulled her even closer. ‘I’m glad you did,’ he murmured in her hair, ‘because if not, I would have.’

She laughed again. ‘I think neither of us are made for proper bondage,’ she giggled, ‘we make a mess of it.’

‘Well,’ he said, sitting up while still holding her in his arms, ‘there are parts of it I like.’ He reached for the apple slices and fed her a piece before putting one in his own mouth. He hummed appreciatively at the taste. ‘The options of consuming not only you but also a whole range of delicious food are rather alluring. Where did you leave the whipped cream?’

They ended up with dipping strawberries and apples in cream and chocolate and feeding and painting each other with the sweet treats, making love all over again until they were utterly spent.

Fenris started with dipping her nipples in chocolate sauce and sucking the dark sugary substance off of her. ‘Your breasts have grown,’ he mumbled, ‘and, by the Maker, they’re more wondrous and delicious than ever.’ He traced a chocolate path down her body till he reached the sweetest entrance and covered it with the rest of the whipped cream. His finger, still drenched in chocolate, traced around her nub while his tongue plunged into her again hungry sheath. ‘Cream covered with cream,’ he breathed wickedly.

Albran bucked entranced in response.

She managed just some staggered wheezes before his tongue and finger once more let her fly to ecstasy. He covered her body, in awe with the slight bump of her belly. ‘You’re more beautiful than ever,’ he whispered before he, now on his own account, entered her and filled her with his hot desire. ‘Let our child feel how much I love you and yearn for you.’

She all but let him and with a soft sob threw her legs around his waist. He almost crushed her with his overwhelming want but she was more than happy to move with him and lead him, and herself, to a new devastating peak.

Finally he fell upon her, trying to catch some air. His warm breath softly stroked her skin when he finally was able to speak. ‘You don’t think we harmed –‘

She interrupted him with a hoarse laugh, still feeling him inside her, ‘No, you sweet idiot! _My_ sweet idiot!’ She took a deep breath and let her fingers trawl down his perfect chiselled face. ‘Our child hasn’t been harmed.’ He exhaled on her chest and lapped the last of the chocolate sauce off her skin. ‘You of all people should know there is tribe living in Seheron that think a baby in a mother’s womb is fed and kept alive only because of a combination of  the blood of woman’s menstruation and a man’s semen.’

He stopped consuming her and looked up sharply. He moved out of her and sat up. ‘How do you know that?’ He sounded strained and at the same time she realised she shouldn’t have uttered that morsel of knowledge. She should have known it would bring up deep feelings of guilt and remorse. Godsdammed, why did she have to bring this up? That place had been his save haven once for a few months before the disastrous outcome, something he still felt mortified about.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, ‘I shouldn’t have said that. I read it somewhere.’ She covered her mouth with quivering fingers. ‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated. She had ruined it all.

He looked into the distance. He could see them again, his saviours who he had for a short while considered his kin, for as far as he knew about kin, for as far as had been able to comprehend about kin. And he had killed them all. He clenched his jaw.

‘I’m sorry,’ she breathed again.

Absentmindedly he drew his fingers through her hair.

‘No,’ he said, ‘don’t be.’ That part belonged to another life. A life that was filled with humiliation, with slavery, with Danarius. And Danarius was dead. That part of his life was dead. He had a new life now. He closed his eyes and opened them to look at his new world.

And in this new world she was the most important part. Together with their unborn child, that she carried. He smiled and pulled her close. ‘Don’t be,’ he softly repeated, ‘you have no reason to be sorry. You’re the one who gave me a life. Who gave me a purpose.’ After a short breath he added, ‘The one who gave me worth.’

She almost broke down in tears but he wouldn’t let her. He kissed her and they made love again. Slow and sweet and soft this time.

It took an hour of bathing afterwards to scrub all the sticky substances off their skin and out of their hair. Neither of them had slept more deeply and fulfilled ever before the following night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't make up the "Seheron tribe" story, only in real it's about a tribe somewhere in Africa. I think it's a wonderful idea.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fenris gets tired and Hawke goes shopping... oh dear...
> 
> Enjoy!

Fenris was the last to deny he had revelled in that wonderful evening of lovemaking. But a couple of weeks later he was of a totally different opinion. Albran seemed possessed and absolutely insatiable. Yes, it still was exhilarating to devour her and to be devoured by her but it became too much. Apples, strawberries, peaches, whipped cream, chocolate sauce and honey were a fantastic new addition, sticky but fantastic nevertheless, – they had given up on the shackles and blindfolds, those led to nothing – and all that combined with her beautiful body he worshipped, and not only because she carried their child, it should have been heaven.

And till certain degree it was. If only she could backpedal now and again.

In fact, he felt totally wasted. He could hardly drag himself out of bed in the morning just after sunrise to go to the barracks and instruct the Guardsmen in those, so much held in high esteem, Tevinter fighting techniques. Donnic, who in his position as the new Guard Captain now and again oversaw the training sessions, hadn’t asked questions yet but the raised eyebrows, every time he came running into the practice area just in time, spoke volumes. And he had to hurry before Albran woke up and would haul him back between the sheets.

He was grateful when one evening Lady Selbrech came to visit the estate to inform if things went well and to talk about a baby shower. Whatever that might be. He seized the occasion to flee the estate and go to the Hanged Man which he hadn’t visited for too long. He entered Varric’s suite and thankfully found the dwarf for once without company. He plopped down in one of the empty chairs around the large table and Varric poured him a glass of wine.

‘You look completely worn out,’ the dwarf observed cautiously with that dangerous inquisitive look in his eyes. Fenris gave him a tortured look in response. ‘Does Hawke still have those bouts of hysterics?’ The dwarf almost sounded empathetic but Fenris noticed clearly the hardly suppressed smirk. And the note of curiosity, of course.

‘No,’ the elf responded tired, ‘although, sometimes she still ...’ He shook his head and smiled faintly. ‘But not as often as before.’ After some contemplatively silence he continued, ‘As a matter of fact, she replaced them with something entirely different.’ He could guess at Varric’s predictable reaction but right now he couldn’t give a damn. He simply needed to get it off his chest; he needed to _talk_ to someone. He drained his glass in one go.

Varric tilted his head. His eyes shone. ‘Care to share some details? Or do you intend to make a guessing game out of it?’ He pushed the bottle closer to the elf and after a few moments refilled the glass himself, since Fenris seemed to miss the hint. ‘You have me quite curious.’

Fenris didn’t even bother with rolling his eyes. ‘Is it really so hard to grasp?’

Varric stared intently at him and noticed the shadows in his face. He saw hollows that hadn’t been there for as long as he could remember, not even when they had first met. And the exhausted look in the elf’s eyes wasn’t characteristic either. It all hinted at a severe lack of sleep. And a drain of energy. He suddenly burst out with merry laughter. The message had hit home. ‘Don’t tell me she’s turned into some kind of succubus!’ he cried out with delighted cheerfulness.

‘Why don’t you shout louder,’ Fenris reacted sourly, ‘I don’t think everyone in Kirkwall has heard you.’ He paused for a heartbeat before adding, ‘Although I’m certain they have heard a whole range of other sounds.’ He drank deeply.

Varric wiped the tears from his cheeks. ‘To be honest, I don’t see the problem. Most men would envy you.’

Fenris shot him a venomous look. ‘Yes. Well, _most_ men don’t have to cope with a wife who wants to have _all_ of them at least seven times a day. And night. I admit I was enthusiastic at the start, if only because she stopped shouting and weeping. But now I’m mostly dog-tired. If not sapped.’ He glowered at the dwarf. ‘Don’t forget I’m the one who has to get up early in the morning to train a bunch of Guards. And I am grateful when she let me go to sleep around three in the morning. That leaves me damned little time to get some rest after all the exertions. And the worst part is that _she_ seems to thrive on it.’

No matter how hard he tried, Varric couldn’t hide his broad grin. ‘I weep for your predicament,’ he chuckled.

‘Don’t use my own words against me,’ Fenris bit back, remembering all too well his heated words spoken to Anders the first time he visited the Gallows with Albran, the dwarf and the mage all those years ago, a lifetime ago. He was surprised Varric remembered but, then again, he should have known better. Varric always remembered every little detail of every occurrence, if only because he wrote them down.

‘Listen to your own whinging,’ the same dwarf sniggered in the meantime, ‘and keep in mind the hungry looks the other males throw at Albran. Even with her swollen belly. She’s more beautiful than ever.’ Fenris graced him with a murderous glare. The dwarf shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’m only trying to say you must enjoy it while it lasts. Between this evening and a few months both your lives will be centred around a little but extremely demanding person that will be the core of your attention, and you will have no time to play the exiting game of the stallion and the mare in heat.’

Fenris’s dark brows shot in his moonlike hair. ‘What?!’

‘A little too colourful to your taste?’ Varric asked innocently while he refilled the elf’s glass. Since the wine bottle was drained, he poured his notorious Antivan brandy. Fenris didn’t seem to notice, he drank just as greedily. Varric smiled and let out a little sigh.

‘Listen to me, Fenris, you will think back at this time with regret if you don’t live it to the fullest. Believe me when I tell you that you will remember it with nostalgia when in the near future the moment you are making love to your wife, your child raises his or her voice and Albran races out of your arms to see to, again, his or her needs. Or kicks you out of the bed to do the honours, of course. I’m quite certain you will get far more frustrated with your sudden empty arms and ditto bed than with her demanding requirements of your display of manhood right now.’

Fenris kept staring at him.

‘Still too colourful?’

The elf shook his head with a small crooked smile. ‘No. Just wondering where you acquired such wisdom,’ he said.

Varric chortled, though somewhat sullenly. ‘I didn’t only have a brother. Back in Orzammar there were sisters too. A whole bunch of them, in fact, and, even worse, they were _elder_ sisters. Why do you think Bartrand and I fled to Topside in the first place?’

Fenris shrugged. ‘I was always under the impression profit and the power of influence played an important part. And a father making the wrong bet.’

‘That too, of course,’ the dwarf nodded concurringly, ‘but the sisters were of great influence.’ He reached for the brandy again but Fenris declined this time.

‘I won’t be able to, er, perform adequately if I drink more,’ he said regretfully, ‘and I don’t dare to disappoint Albran. I definitively don’t want to return to the scream-and-tears days.’

The moment Fenris closed the door behind his back, Varric grabbed his quill and notebook and started scribbling. If this wasn’t a cure for a writer’s block, nothing was.

-

‘I have nothing to wear,’ Hawke declared. She stood before her opened dresser, stark naked. Even her bare back radiated distress while she was scrutinizing the contents of the closet.

‘That’s a typical female complaint if I ever heard one,’ Fenris grinned, ogling her appealing behind with much appreciation, ‘and may I add I don’t mind, as long as you stay indoors.’

‘I _meant_ , nothing fits me anymore,’ Hawke retorted sharply, ‘I’ve by now outgrown all the garments Orana so skilfully has extended and even my underwear have become too-smallclothes.’

Panic struck in an instant. ‘So you intend to go shopping,’ Fenris said flatly. Nightmarish visions of being forced to visit uncountable shops flashed before his eyes.

‘Yes love, but don’t worry, I won’t drag you along. I think you have had more than your share of that particular suffering before our wedding day.’

She giggled and Fenris shivered at the awful memories of how Varric had tormented him by jerking him around Hightown and forcing him into every shop available. And always with that unbearable evil angelic smirk plastered on his face. Which he had shared with Sebastian, by the way; his brother in crime back then.

Relieved he walked over to Albran and wrapped his arms around her. Lovingly he laid his flat palms on her growing belly. ‘Thank you for your understanding.’ He tenderly nuzzled her neck. ‘You know, you smell different,’ he murmured, eagerly inhaling the feminine perfume wafting from the spot behind her ear, ‘it’s as if a whiff of honey has weaved through your natural fragrance. Wild honey.’

‘Sounds sweet and dangerous at the same time,’ Albran chortled.

‘So, much like you.’

And then he stiffened.

There was a motion under his right hand. A tiny push. It was as fragile as the touch of the wing of a butterfly but unmistakable. He stood stock-still and hardly dared to breathe, as if he was afraid an intake of air would spoil the moment.

There it was again.

 A swift contact with his palm, light as a wisp of wind but definite and unique; the lyrium lines reacted in a pleasant tingling way. _This is my child._

Albran sensed his sudden change of demeanour and smiled inwardly. ‘You felt it too?’

‘Yes,’ he whispered. He was in awe.

She covered his hands with hers. ‘Apparently our child says hallo to Daddy.’

‘You feel this all the time?’

With a sudden pang he envied her. For the first time he realised she was constantly aware of the existence of their child; not only because of the growing of her body but because she could actually feel it move. Up till now he had never apprehended she was in continuous contact with that growing life inside her, let alone he himself would ever be able to sense it. His throat went thick and he had to swallow with all his might to push back the sudden lump.

‘No, only when she is awake and restless.’

‘She ..?’ he asked hesitantly.

Albran laughed. ‘People always refer to unborn babies as “he”. I find that discriminating, so I decided to address our baby as “she”.’

‘You have a fair point,’ he agreed. After a short silence he asked, ‘Is she often awake and restless?’ He tried not to sound jealous.

‘Only when I don’t want her to,’ Albran grimaced. ‘The moment I sit down to find some peace and quiet, she begins to swim around. I think she likes to be cradled.’

‘I’d love to cradle her,’ Fenris said softly. Suddenly he couldn’t wait till the moment he could hold his child in his arms, despite Varric’s warning.

She squeezed his hand. ‘Be patient, my love, you will have the chance within a couple of months. Then you can cradle her as much as you want to.’

The moment couldn’t come soon enough.

Three months and counting down.

-

Hawke had squeezed herself into the last pair of pants and the last blouse that didn’t burst at the seams as she tried them on. She had had to wrap a broad shawl around her belly to hide the exposed skin between the two pieces of clothing. When she looked critically at herself in the mirror in her bedroom she thought that last touch was absolutely not too bad. She made an effort to see the effect the knot made on her back but failed, despite she had almost dislocated her neck. She could just hope it didn’t make her behind look as if she had an enormous ass.

Without much enthusiasm she had been willing to follow Orana’s advice and tried on some of her mother’s dresses. She didn’t like dresses to start with and besides that, these ones were awfully outdated and meant for an older woman to boot. She was more than relieved to find out her mother had been slender and her dresses weren’t fit for a pregnant woman. To her secret astonishment she had discovered, while inspecting the contents of her mother’s old closet and handling her former belongings, that it didn’t hurt any longer. With that, Orana’s idea had at least done her some good. She had touched her mother’s old clothing and had whispered, ‘I wish you could have been able to hold your grandchild in your arms. That we could have shared the joy of my pregnancy together. There’re so many questions I would have liked to ask you.’

Yes, she had felt a wave of pain and loss and yes, tears had entered her eyes but she hadn’t wept. She just had smiled quietly. But she had realised she’d not felt unhappy or filled with guilt any longer. It had been quite a revelation.

She got interrupted in her contemplations by a catcall and a critical growl. The two sentences ‘Oh, I simply adore the way you look!’ and ‘Are you really going out like that?’ overlapped each other in perfect sync. She twirled around and saw Isabela, Aveline and Merrill stand on the doorstep of the bedroom.

‘I think you look lovely,’ the Dalish elf said with a shy smile.

Hawke smiled eloquently back. ‘Thank you Merrill. And yes, Aveline, I’m going to risk the wrath and grudge of the whole of Hightown by going out like this because I have run out of clothes. That’s the main reason for the shopping exercise in the first place.’ She looked pleadingly at Isabela. ‘Could you adjust the bow of the shawl so that I don’t resemble a milk cow? Without jumping me?’

The pirate queen laughed her infectious laugh. ‘Don’t worry sweetness, though I’ve never seen a pregnant woman as charming as you.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I’ve heard stories about how you wear out Fenris.’

Hawke kept a straight face. ‘Did you now. I suppose Varric still keeps his imagination honed.’ She straitened her shoulders. ‘Well, ladies, are we prepared for a nice day out? Drinks are on me.’

When they walked out of the door she suddenly caught the tender look Aveline cast upon her. She gave her a soft smile and said, ‘You don’t know half how much I appreciate you’re coming with us.’ It had been no small feat to coax Aveline into leaving her many tasks for just one afternoon. She practically had had to beg her, pointing out she would benefit from  taking a couple of hours off and telling her she missed her best friend. In the end the Viscountess had given in.

Aveline had grinned awkwardly back. ‘You show more cleavage than Isabela but Merrill is right. You do look lovely. Radiant, in fact.’ She squeezed her hand. ‘And I’m looking forward to a few hours of idle leisure. It has been too long.’

Hawke had read the unspoken words in her eyes. _I would very much like to have a child also but I’m too afraid for the consequences._

She had to find a moment to talk with her in earnest.

-

After having visited a few shops, Hawke called it a day. It had been hard and more and more frustrating to find maternity clothing that didn’t make her look like an oversized whale in mourning. It had turned into an ordeal.

‘I don’t have to attend a funeral,’ she complained to one of the shop-assistants, who evidently felt very uncomfortable in the presence of both the Champion and the Viscountess. ‘Why don’t these garments come in bright colours? It’s not that I grieve about my pregnancy! And while we’re at it, I happen to be proud of my body, I don’t have to hide it under all those layers of depressing cloth,’ she had added with outright disgust.

The poor trembling girl had been brushed aside by the confident proprietress. ‘I’m convinced we can find something to your taste, Champion,’ she had said with a professional smile, ‘and if not, we can always fabricate it.’ And in the end they had achieved in buying some attire that was more or less to Hawke’s liking. It had been much more fun to choose and purchase some pieces of the baby outfit, but when Isabela started to show signs of boredom, Albran had decided it became time for the drinks she had promised. There would be no hunt for exciting lingerie this time to distract the pirate queen.

At this very moment they were sitting in the gentle early spring sun on the patio of one of the fancy restaurants in Hightown, enjoying drinks and ridiculously expensive titbits and sweetmeats.

‘How was the baby shower?’ Isabela informed while she took a sip from her rum with pineapple juice. She let out an appreciating hum. ‘This is good stuff!’

‘Boring,’ Hawke said. ‘A whole afternoon in the company of a bunch of chatterboxes who only came to snoop. Complete waste of time.’

There was a stressed look in Hawke’s eyes and a strained edge to her voice Isabela totally missed, since she was completely taken by the excellent pineapple-rum. Aveline, on the other hand, frowned in wonder.

Isabela took another sip, or rather a gulp, reasoning there was more where this came from. ‘You knew that beforehand. So why did you agree?’

Hawke shrugged. ‘To get on good terms with them, I suppose.’

‘And again, why? After what happened you don’t have to pacify the nobles.’

‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you. But I thought the same after killing the Arishok and look how that turned out.’

‘But this time it is different,’ Aveline contradicted her, ‘this time you fought at their side. When you saved them from the Qunari, they were the powerless victims, which undoubtedly stirred bad feelings. At least the pride of the likes of Edgert the Hound was deeply hurt. But now you have become brothers in arms and chased the enemy out of the city together.’

Isabela heaved her empty glass. ‘For once we agree, Captain Man Hands, sorry, _Viscountess_ Man Hands. Let’s drink to that. Shit. Empty. Hey, you there, waiter boy, bring me a new one. Chop-chop!’ Aveline almost choked on her white wine. ‘What now?’ the pirate queen said innocently. ‘The drinks here are expensive enough for the waiters to hurry up while serving them.’

In the meantime Merrill was admiring the things they had bought for the baby. She held up a pair of almost non-existing socks and examined them with a tender far-away look. ‘They’re so small,’ she sighed, ‘you can hardly imagine they fit any human or even elven being, how little it may be.’

‘I’ve been told they resemble more stockings than baby socks, just after the birth,’ Hawke said grimly.

‘And this teeny tiny shirt,’ Merrill swooned, not sensing the upcoming storm and ignoring Hawke’s sour remark, ‘so cute.’

‘Yes. Some kind of big bag, apparently.’ Albran made a face as if she had bitten in a bad lemon.

Aveline chortled. ‘Regarding your expression, the baby shower was not only boring but annoying as well.’ Despite her earlier awareness of Hawke’s irritation, she didn’t sense this brewing storm either. She had made a wrong guess about what exactly Hawke was angry about and now had no idea what she – and Merrill – set into motion until it was too late. Isabela, on the other hand, held firm. This time the roles were reversed. She might know nothing about baby showers, she knew everything about grown-up storms. She had emerged from the pineapple-rum surprise alert and ready to handle a hurricane. All hands on deck, sails down and courage up.

Hawke laughed sarcastically. ‘It turned out Dulci de Launcet and her cronies consider themselves indisputable authorities in the lore of infants, pregnancies and delivering.’

‘You could use them as some source of information,’ Aveline suggested, practical as always. ‘Maker knows none of us are able to answer your questions.’ 

Isabela cringed. _Fault reply._ Figuratively speaking she already had clasped the helm firmly with both hands. And awaited with badly concealed merriment what would happen next.

‘What? Them?’ Albran burst out indignantly. ‘The only thing they did was looking smug, telling me I knew nothing but would discover the truth soon enough. And by the sound of it, that truth will be a world full of insufferable pain and misery, filled with screams and torture. But I never was able to comprehend whether those screams would be my doing or the infant’s. I bloody couldn’t be fucking certain because they were very hush hush about it, whispering among each other and throwing me now and again a knowing superior and compassionate look although it seemed more like condescending –‘

_Shit. She is really going all the way. Time to break in. No need to let her make a scene in the posh department of Hightown._

‘Eh, sweetness,’ Isabela tried to interfere. But she didn’t get the chance.

‘And after that, they started to give me good advice about how to furnish the nursery and which colours to use and what kind of toys to buy,’ Hawke went on, raising her voice, ‘can you believe it?! They were telling me how to decorate my own house!’

‘Sweetness,’ Isabela made a new effort to silence her. People sitting at tables around them were turning their heads in amused amazement.

‘And then it even got better!’ Hawke was practically screaming by now. ‘They thought they had the fucking right to tell me what to eat and when to sleep and how to dress!! They as good as commanded me to hire a wet-nurse because breastfeeding the babe was not done by a noble woman!!!’ Her voice caught with flaming fury. She had the breathless undivided attention of everyone present by now.

‘Hawke!’ Isabela hissed, still to no avail. She gripped her wrist but Hawke didn’t notice or at least didn’t pay attention to it.

‘Those arrogant, insufferable old shrews!’ she raved on. ‘Couple of sickening busybody bitches!! Let them –‘

‘ _Hawke_!!’ Isabela said firmly and loudly. ‘Stop it. You’re going off. Take a gulp of air and a swig of your orange juice.’

Thankful for the pirate wench’s meddling Aveline pushed the glass into Albran’s hands. ‘Get yourself together, Hawke, ‘you’re attracting too much attention.’ She tried to parry the curious glances with one of her most stern ones, but the audience was simply too captivated to be intimidated right now.

For a moment it seemed Albran was going to explode but then she deflated. With a sigh she said, ‘I did it again, didn’t I. Sorry.’ She bit her lip.

‘That’s alright Hawke,’ Merrill piped up, a little off balance and intimidated by Albran’s outburst, ‘we all understand I’m sure, I think.’

Hawke groaned. ‘I have to go to the ladies room. To flush down my embarrassment.’ She grimaced weakly. She wished Fenris were here. He always knew how to calm her down, for one reason or another. He at least always handled her ferocious outbursts with never-ending patience. She stood up and looked defiantly around the patio, along the expecting faces. ‘Show’s over,’ she growled menacingly, ‘you’ve had your fun, now go about your own business. Shove off.’

All the curious heads turned back so fast that there was a serious danger of mass decapitation.

‘Dear Maker,’ Aveline said, when she had disappeared, ‘is this Fenris has to cope with every day? My respect for him has suddenly risen sky-high.’

‘Well, there’s a silver lining, of course,’ Isabela smirked, ‘at least he gets plenty of sex.’

After s short silence Merrill said with sudden insight, ‘Oh, was that what Varric meant when he said that after the seed is planted the flower needs lots of showering?’ She blushed profoundly at the same moment. ‘I thought he was talking about their garden,’ she mumbled, flushed.

This time Aveline spluttered her white wine over the whole surface of the table while Isabela had to hold on to the Viscountess’s arm to prevent her from falling off her chair with laughter.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all you pregnant ladies out there, give your man (or woman) a good cuddle now and again!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Miss Ivy...
> 
> Enjoy!

Hawke came home in a very foul mood. ‘You know,’ she told her child, absent-mindedly rubbing her belly, ‘you have a complete and utter idiot as a mother. You should be grateful that at least your father is a sensible man. That could be your salvation.’ She got kicked as some kind of answer, a reaction open to all sorts of interpretations, but she couldn’t even manage to break the slightest smile.

She was extremely angry with herself.  She didn’t doubt that within no time her public outburst would be known amongst all noble households and she would be back where she started, i.e. on bad terms with the nobility. She couldn’t have cared less if it just considered her, or even Fenris. But she carried a so called half-blood which in this case was some kind of curse. The mere term, and especially the thought behind it, left her seething but it was as it was and she should do anything in her might to let their child be accepted. She had done a wonderful job today.

‘Anybody home?’ she called, just over the threshold. No answer. Perhaps just for the better. She was in the mood to kill someone and it was the wisest thing for everyone not to cross her path right now. After she had flung her purchases on the desk in the parlour, she sank down on the sofa and rested her hands on her swollen stomach. She tried to calm down. There came another vicious kick.

‘Yes,’ she sighed, ‘you are right. Punish me. I didn’t exactly advocate your cause today, did I. Bad, bad Mummy.’

She wished she could’ve restrained herself for once. Yes, she had been extremely vexed during and after the baby shower (she had accepted Lady Selbrech’s apologies with a tense smile but was certain the woman had not understood half of her anxiety, she was a noble herself, after all), but that had given her no excuse to behave as she had done today. As a total, wound up jackass.

After a while she decided it would be better to work off her anger than to sit here sulking. And what better way to let evaporate the steam that still almost emerged from her ears than wielding her daggers? She hadn’t done that for too long. Perhaps this was the right moment to start. She descended to the cellars to pick up the target she knew was resting idly against a wall, collecting dust. She had noticed the item while she had stumbled upon it the few times she had entered the space. Probably it was once used as an aim for marksmen’s arrows (she wondered for a moment whether one of her forbearers had been an archer, though right now it didn’t matter) but it could as well be used for throwing knifes.

She went to the garden, dragging the board along. She removed a flower box hanging against the garden wall and replaced it with the round board. She went to the bedroom to fetch her throwing daggers and not moments later the weapons flew through the air. After all, her throwing skills needed improvement and this was as best a moment as any to start with that specific training. Stupid she hadn’t thought of that before. It could have saved Fenris a lot of frustrated shouting. She imagined the faces of the know-all biddies and hit them all with grim satisfaction. Apparently she just had to picture the old shrews, concentrate on her dark fury and the daggers hit home. Of course. Concentration was the key-word. Fury was a good runner-up.

And then it nearly went terribly wrong.  

There sounded a soft rumour behind her back. ‘Albran, are you – ‘

Without thinking, completely acting out of instinct – and, but that doesn’t need mentioning,  still enveloped in her fiery ferocity aimed against those insufferable snooty noble women – she swirled around and hurled the dagger resting between her fingers with great speed and force. It left her hand with lethal accuracy. As it turned out with _almost_ lethal accuracy.

Her eyes grew wide with horror.

Fenris stood nailed to the spot. Almost literally. A dagger was imbedded not an inch from his head, its steel blade quivering in the wood of the door leading to the kitchen. As a matter of fact, the razor sharp blade had taken a few strands of his moonlike locks. He stood still as a statue, just looking at her, outwardly unperturbed. In truth his heart had shot into his throat and was racing flat out.

In the heavy moments that passed, Albran’s knees started to give way.

Fenris took in a slow breath and said, ‘You could have just told me you didn’t want me around without trying to kill me.’ He tried not to grimace and instead gave her a crooked smile. ‘No need to throw knives at me to make your point clear.’ She crumbled and he raced to her rescue.

‘I’m sorry,’ she wheezed desperately in his arms.

‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated several times over after he had placed her in one of the chairs surrounding the garden table that were part of their friends´ wedding present, and had provided her with a cup of tea. But tea didn’t work to give her her calm back and thus he forced her to drink a dram of whisky. 

‘I can’t, the baby,’ she protested weakly.

‘Shut up and drink. I’m quite certain our baby will survive this,’ he said sternly. ‘You need this right now.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated once over after a small sip. ‘I almost killed you.’ She was about to collapse all over again.

Fenris smiled thinly. ‘I was under the impression that was one of your new hobbies of late.’

‘Don’t make light of it!’ Albran sobbed.

‘Please, love, don’t dwell on it. Nothing happened.’ _Besides a mild heart-attack._

‘I swear I won’t touch a dagger again while I’m still pregnant. I’m completely irresponsible,’ she said determinedly.

Fenris silently agreed but stuck with just kissing her. That seemed a lot safer. In the end she let out a trembling chuckle. ‘Perhaps we should let that knife stay in the door-post, to remind me of all of my silly and now even perilous actions.’

Fenris tenderly brushed her cheek. ‘Yes, perhaps we should do that. I think it’s a fitting memorial of this pregnancy,’ he said teasingly. And he kissed her anew before she could reply. Or burst into tears.

-

Fenris was sitting on a bench in the training area of the Barracks after a specifically difficult and messy training session. He mused the warm spring sun must be due to the lack of concentration of the men and women who normally followed his instructions without a flaw. He wiped the sweat off his brow and leant with his back against the wall. Moments later Donnic sank down next to him. He offered him a flagon of ale which he gratefully accepted.

‘Spring’s in the air,’ the Guard Captain chuckled, ‘don’t take it personally. Their minds are more set on, er, shagging than fighting right now.’

The elf laughed. ‘Speaking of experience?’ he couldn’t help asking mischievously.

Donnic blushed and grinned nervously. ‘There is something I like your advice about,’ he said hesitantly.

Fenris eyed his friend and immediately knew what this was about but thought it would be best to let Donnic come out with it.

‘You know Aveline and I have been talking about having children – one day.’ He cleared his throat, turned crimson, tapped his fingers on his thigh and decided to not beat about the bush. He grimaced while he took courage. ‘I suppose I’ve always been the more enthusiastic one about the idea. But lately my enthusiasm has somewhat lessened. Please don’t get angry when I say this, but Hawke, well, she can become, err ...’ At a loss for words he looked pleadingly at Fenris.

‘Outright dangerous?’ the elf suggested straight-faced.

‘I wouldn’t go that far.’

‘I would,’ Fenris grinned, a little strained. He still could feel the dagger graze the skin of his face.

‘I never knew pregnant women could become like that. To be honest, it scares me to death. How do you handle it?’

Fenris stretched his long legs and crossed his ankles. ‘Frankly, I don’t know.’ He tipped the flagon and took another sip. ‘Sometimes I think it’s mostly Orana who keeps Albran in check,’ he confessed. He smiled apologetically.

‘I highly doubt that,’ Donnic muttered, ‘you give yourself too little credit.’

‘You shouldn’t forget that Albran has a much more, how shall I put it, inflammable character than Aveline. I don’t think you have to worry about your wife getting as explosive as mine.’

The Guard Captain raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t be too sure about that. You weren’t present when she stood shouting at Sebastian and gave Elthina a good piece of her mind. I fear she might even get worse.’

Fenris sat up. ‘You know, I keep saying to myself that it’s just a couple of months. And since the reward is a child, an offspring of me and Albran, it’s worth all the bad moods and outbursts. You just have to live through it, stand strong. It will end and in that end you will hold your child in your arms.’

Donnic nodded pensively in agreement. ‘I think that’s fair enough.’ He smiled faintly. ‘So, the only thing left to do is to convince Aveline there’ll never be a perfect time in a city like Kirkwall to start a family and this is as perfect as it gets.’

Fenris reciprocated that timid smiled. ‘Good luck with that.’

-

Still smiling Fenris stepped, an hour later, into their bedroom in the Amell Estate. The smile was swept off his face the very instant. His breath hitched forcefully and he almost got a seizure. ‘What do you think you’re doing!’ he yelled, immediately regretting his outburst in case he startled Albran and she would fall all the way down.

Albran stood balancing on the top of a stepladder. A very rickety stepladder in his eyes. ‘What does it look like?’ she replied calmly. ‘I’m painting the bedroom.’ She waved a paintbrush in his direction, spluttering drops around. A good thing she had covered the carpet and furniture with old rugs and rags.

‘Are you mad?! Come down this instant!’

‘No! Why should I? I’m doing brilliantly! Don’t you like the new colour?’

The colour was the least of his concerns right now. With dread he saw her stretch and balance on one foot to reach a spot in the corner and in his running wild imagination he already pictured her lying crumpled on the floor. ‘Please, Albran,’ he begged desperately, ‘that thing doesn’t look that solid. What if it crashes?’ He rushed over and caught her carefully but tightly around her expanded waist when she, to his immense relief, started to descent. ‘I don’t see why the bedroom has to be painted anyway. It has only recently been restored!’

‘In a far too hasty and shabby way. And that was months ago, by the way. Look around! I’m not going to get our child in this slum!’

He stared flabbergasted at her. _Slum_? This was by far the most luxurious room he had ever spent a night in. He didn’t disagree with the new warm dark red paint as such, he just didn’t see the point. And he definitely had big problems with her wobbling on an unstable stepladder. On the other hand, if it made her happy to change the bedroom, he would comply without much protest. No need to start a row over it; before you knew it, he’d have a dagger stuck in his skull.

‘Alright, how about this: I use the ladder and you paint the parts of the walls you can reach without the risk of breaking your neck or getting our child into danger.’

‘Aren’t you just the sweetest,’ she beamed and touched the tip of his nose with the brush. He was too thankful she took it so relaxed to protest against her playful gesture.

A few hours later a simple dot on his nose didn’t matter anyhow; by that time it wasn’t just his nose that was smeared and splattered with paint; as a matter of fact he could use himself as a brush by then. He seriously and with growing admiration wondered how the workmen they had hired to repair the estate had managed to get only the incidental drop on their clothes. And worked much faster, besides that.

They were taking a break in the kitchen when Anders visited. The mage stared incredulously at the elf, trying not laugh out loud. ‘And here I was, convinced your hair was white and you were fine with that. It seems I’ve been wrong all the time. Why have you decided to dye it? To scare the demons away? And what is that on your face? War paint? Is it so hard to keep your Guardsmen in check?’

Chortling under her breath Hawke waved at the First Enchanter to pick a seat and sit down and she poured him a cup of tea.

‘Someone has got it into her head our bedroom needs a make-over,’ Fenris growled with a dirty look at Albran, ‘and my qualities may be many, apparently painting is not one of them,’ he added sarcastically. ‘It doesn’t help I have never held a paintbrush in my hands before this day in my entire life.’

‘I think you look adorable,’ Hawke put in a word with a sweet smile. She pushed a plate with chocolate-biscuits in Anders’ direction.

‘That’s not exactly what a warrior wants to hear,’ Fenris reacted darkly.

‘Ah,’ Anders snickered, ‘I sense a case of nesting instinct.’

The elf squinted at him. ‘Is this something similar to mood swings? Because, if so, I feel a sudden urge to hide in the cellar for the time being.’ He gave his wife a lopsided pained (and painted) grimace. ‘No offence meant.’

She shot him a bright smile back. ‘None taken, my love. But since you’re so, er, bravely fighting the walls with brush and vigour, perhaps you can also deal with the nursery? And while we’re at it, the ancestral crib is in desperate need of a new layer of paint. I guess you’ll be getting the hang of it along the way. I have all the confidence in your ability to learn fast.’

Before he could answer, and it would have been a rather snarky response, Orana entered the kitchen. ‘I see we have a visitor,’ she said jovially. ‘Good afternoon Anders, I hope you’re well? I just returned from the market, Albran, and I brought the new cloth for the canopy of your bed. They finally ordered the right fabric and ...’ She stopped in mid-sentence and stared at Fenris. She tried to stifle a laugh but failed gloriously and within no time she had to hold on to the door-post.

‘Yes, yes,’ Fenris grumbled tetchily, ‘I know, I look like some sort of clown with bad make-up. Now, if you’ll excuse me, those walls won’t paint themselves.’ He stood abruptly and swept out of the kitchen with long irritated strides.

‘Women,’ they heard him grouse, ‘women and mages. Ugh.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Orana guffawed, wiping the tears from her eyes, ‘I didn’t mean to offend him but he looked absolutely adorable.’

Hawke nodded in agreement. ‘That’s what I told him but I believe he didn’t take it as a compliment. But don’t worry, he’ll get by.’

‘I’ll bake an apple-pie to make it up to him,’ Orana promised, still laughing.

-

But, of course, new paint wasn’t the end to it. Within no time he got enveloped in some equivalent of a whirlwind, worse even: of several whirlwinds, while as good as all the chambers on the premises were pulled upside down because they had to be scrubbed clean and redecorated.

He endured what he considered a punishment without much protest, although within a week he got nauseated by the smell of paint and soft soap and the penetrating odour of the cloth of new curtains. Everywhere were new curtains. And new colours. Every time he came home from work and tried to find some peace and quiet, he encountered chaos. Even Sandal was infected by all the activities and danced happily around with rags, brooms and buckets. The only ally he had was Rascal, whom he found at a regular basis in the garden, where the dog tried to hide behind a bush with a bewildered expression around his muzzle.

‘I know how you feel,’ Fenris told the sad dog on a particularly nice day that got wasted away with indoor activities that in his, and Rascal’s, view were totally unnecessary. ‘But try to keep in mind this nonsense will end.’

Rascal huffed miserably and crawled from behind his bush and laid his head on his knee. He looked up with unfathomable gloomy eyes. Fenris scratched the hound behind his ears. ‘Just let it come over you and try to take as less notion as you can,’ he advised him. He tried to live to that motto as best as he could himself, even though it seemed impossible at times.

He put his foot down, however, when he found Albran one afternoon in the wine-cellar, dusting bottles.

‘Have you gone completely out of your mind?!’

‘Look at all the filth down here!’ she countered. ‘Something must be done about it!’

‘Yes,’ he scoffed, ‘I imagine you giving birth in here or hordes of maternity visitors and baby admirers going down to inspect the state of the cellars. Stop this madness instantly! I understand you want the house spic and span but this goes too far.’

It turned out to be no small feat to convince her of the idiocy of this particular action and to persuade her to share a peaceful time in the pleasant late spring sun.

 _One month, just one more month._ And he feared what that small amount of weeks had in store.

-

It was a lovely day in early summer, not a week later, and Fenris had been working in the garden the whole of his free morning because, undoubtedly, that would be Albran’s next project. That is, she had hinted at it in that not at all subtle way that left no room for mistakes. She herself had gone off with Orana to buy the last of the layette. After a whole morning of labouring he went into the kitchen to clean his hands and wash away the dust in his throat with a glass of water.

He was emptying the glass while standing at the sink, contemplating if she would be satisfied with what he had done, when something started to clamber up his leg. Something with little but needle-sharp claws. He almost dropped the vessel in surprise and looked alarmed down. ‘What the –‘ He reached down and plucked the intruder from his trousers which earned him a few nasty scratches on his leg and a loud high-pitched protest.

‘Ouch! You little devil!’

At the same time he heard cheerful chattering voices coming from the parlour. Apparently, Albran and Orana had already returned home without him noticing. Good. He strode into the room. ‘Care to explain?’ he informed gruffly while holding the little black-and-white striped kitten up at the scruff.

‘Oow,’ Hawke crooned, ‘you found them. Aren’t they cute?’

‘ _They_?! What do you mean _they_? How many are there?!’

‘Four,’ Hawke beamed happily.

‘We found the litter of kittens when we returned from the market,’ Orana clarified hastily, noticing the murderous look in the other elf’s eyes and hoping to prevent a serious matrimonial argument. ‘It was obvious the mother abandoned them, or, more probably, was killed. They were mewing most pitiably.’ She more or less pleaded with him but for once he didn’t fall for it.

‘And so you just brought them home with you.’ There sounded a brewing storm in Fenris’s voice.

‘Was I supposed, especially as an expectant mother, to leave the little fluffy balls on their own to die?’ Albran challengingly stuck out her chin. ‘They are four, or at the very most just five weeks old. They can’t survive on their own!’

‘So you intend to haul every stray you stumble upon into our house? What’s next? A maltreated donkey in the garden? A flock of hungry seagulls in the attic? A nest of poor lost dragonlings in the cellar?’ He was getting more and more agitated. ‘Why don’t we just open an animal home? Or, better even, an orphanage?!’

‘We won’t keep them all,’ Hawke pouted resentfully.

Ignoring her tone Fenris cried out, ‘Oh good, such a relief!’ He very hard tried not to snap completely, which was quite challenging after all the nerve-racking turbulence he had gone through during the past weeks.

‘I’m certain Anders will like to have one,’ Albran ticked off the likely candidates in the meantime, quite unperturbed by his angry outburst. ‘Aveline won’t have objections against a Keep’s mouser, I’m sure, and otherwise I’ll convince Donnic, and I think Merrill can use a companion.’ She cocked her head. ‘I’d like to keep the one you’re so lovingly holding for ourselves. She appears to be the most bold and enterprising of the bunch. I like that. Apparently she found the kitchen out of herself, driven by curiosity, I suppose. And I think she’s already fond of you. Maker know why, bearing in mind the way you’re treating the poor thing.’

 Fenris stared at the kitten that helplessly dangled in his hand and his expression softened. He let out a deep sigh. ‘Have you considered you just brought home four delicious bites for Rascal?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Hawke grinned and pointed at the marbari Fenris hitherto had overlooked. The dog lay on his back in a corner of the room with all four deadly paws in the air and the other three kittens of the litter sleeping on his belly. The elf could swear he wore a heavenly smirk of contentment.

‘You traitor,’ he mumbled and he walked over to him to drop the black-and-white nuisance among the others of the litter. He immediately stirred up havoc. The three other little cats woke up and immediately started a row among each other which involved a lot of biting in floppy ears and hardly existing tails, rolling over, and clawing in Rascal’s skin. The dog opened one eye and gave Fenris a look that said, ‘Really?’ and after that let out a soft growl that within no time brought the small rebels back to order. Not seconds later the whole bunch was fast asleep once more.

‘Aah,’ Hawke and Orana sighed simultaneously in captured devotion.

‘Traitor,’ Fenris repeated and at the same time shook his head. He couldn’t suppress a little smile. It was impossible not to adore the scene. He pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Alright, we will keep that little black and white – ‘

He came no further because Albran almost crushed him in a suffocating embrace.

‘I knew you would love her!’

And so Miss Ivy entered their lives.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not entirely been making this up. I found a stray when I was about eight months pregnant. She was - and still is - a delight.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

‘Miss Ivy? Why, for Andraste’s sake, did you give her that ridiculous name?!’ asked Anders with a bemused frown.

‘Because she likes to climb,’ Hawke explained, without showing any sign of being insulted by his exclamation, ‘like a true mountaineer, in fact: up the stairs, which is no small feat for such short wobbly legs, into the curtains and most of all into Fenris.’

Anders sniggered amused. ‘I bet he loves it.’

‘Well, in the beginning he shouted at her to stop that nonsense but that encouraged her even more. You know how cats are. And very soon he learned that pulling her off his legs only led to tears in his pants and bloody scratches on his skin. She’s very persistent. So now he just lets her. He calls her “a plucky piece of poison”. Another reason for the name.’ She chuckled mischievously. ‘And he calls her by other names as well. I don’t understand them because he speaks Tevene to her but they sound too gentle to be terms of abuse.’

She tilted her head and added pensively, ‘Perhaps some kind of prelude, or exercise, for when our child has arrived.’ She smiled, shook her head and continued, ‘Besides that, I’ve learned to recognize all of the nasty expressions over the years. They were meant for me personal on several occasions.’ She winked conspiratorially. ‘The other day I caught our fierce warrior standing at the counter over there talking to Miss Ivy that balanced on his shoulder while she was trying to deafen him by purring with the force of a bronto in his ear. He was making a sandwich for himself and fed her small pieces of ham. It was so cute.’

Anders laughed out loud. ‘He must have been overjoyed when you found out.’

Albran lifted one eyebrow. ‘I may have been acting like quite an idiot during the past months but I’m not _that_ big an idiot. I withdrew before he could see me.’

An hour earlier this very morning, Anders had dropped by to check on her. ‘You are a perfect example of a pregnancy going by the book,’ he had ascertained with appreciation. ‘You’re sure you don’t have any complaints whatsoever?’

‘Besides a lower back pain and some minor troubles like heartburn and the occasional cramp in my calves, no. And Fenris takes care of my back in the evenings. He truly has magic fingers. And of course I have to pee at least twenty times an hour but I suppose that’s normal with a belly the size of a prize-winning pumpkin.’

‘As a matter of fact, you’re not that huge,’ the healer had stated with a little smile, ‘your navel hasn’t even popped out. You have a very elegant charming round belly, if I may say so. I wouldn’t compare it to a pumpkin. More to a, how shall I put it, an enlarged apricot.’

‘Does that mean the child isn’t that big?’ Albran had asked hesitantly. ‘Thanks for the compliment by the way. You really know how to flatter a girl, especially when she doesn’t feel that attractive at all anymore.’

‘Don’t mention it,’ Anders had beamed, ‘but I can’t imagine Fenris isn’t doing a better job in the compliment department.’

‘Yes he does, but I can hardly count him impartial. And you haven’t answered my question.’

‘Hard to tell, really,’ Anders had shrugged, ‘it might as well be you have not a large amount of waters.’ He had added playfully, ‘Nevertheless, I don’t think you have to push out a giant. And you better be grateful for it.’

After the examination they had gone to the kitchen. Hawke had provided Anders with a mug and a pitcher of ale and herself with tea and the both of them with a plate with the lemon cupcakes she loved at the moment. They were sitting at the table; the litter of little kittens were gathered around a saucer with milk, trying to lap up as much of the white liquid as fast as possible. Rascal sat next to them, supervising the scene with a stern eye.

‘So, which of the scoundrels would you like for yourself? I know there is no tabby among them but if your mind’s set on a tomcat, you can pick the grey one with the black dots. You could call him Ser-Munch-a-Lot; he’s something like a wolverine when it comes to gobbling up his food. He will eat you out of house and home within no time.’

Anders laughed again; he did that a lot since Justice had taken his leave, Hawke had noticed. She liked it. ‘A good thing then that I’m not as poor as I was, otherwise I might not be able to afford him.’

She cocked her head and asked pensively, ‘Don’t you miss it sometimes? Those days?’

Anders took the pitcher sitting in the middle of the table and poured himself another mug of ale. ‘What? The “Good Ole Days” of Justice nagging and yammering in my head, never giving me a moment’s rest, always reminding me of the urgent needs of the pursued and imprisoned mages? O yes, I miss that tremendously.’ He made a sad face and sighed dramatically. ‘Now I have to go and find an actual person to yell at and quarrel with. It’s not the same. They never give the correct reaction.’

Albran stared at him.

This time the mage roared with laughter. ‘Just kidding you, Hawke. Although I have to confess I miss beating the Templars around the bush. On the other hand, it’s fantastic fun to wind up Cullen. He falls for every idiotic idea I propose; no matter how often I do it, he keeps thinking I’m serious. It has become a kind of challenge to come up with something even more outrageous. Perhaps next I will suggest to forgo the harrowing. I ought to frame his baffled expressions, they’re priceless. Much like your own now. I could make good money out of it.’ He chortled roguishly in his ale.

Hawke shook her head and mused, not for the first time, what an ordeal Anders had gone through with that blasted spirit droning in his head all the time, elbowing his own thoughts and steeling his feelings and controlling his emotions. He had changed so much since the absence of Justice. It suddenly got through to her she hadn’t thought of that stormy fateful night in early autumn for ages – or, yes, now and again she had but she didn’t associate it with this new First Enchanter anymore. That had been a completely different Anders. A stranger. She considered it wisest not to comment and she just took another bite from her lemon cupcake.

‘I must admit, however, I regularly miss the peace and quiet,’ Anders went on.

‘Peace and quiet?’ Albran coughed incredulously, spreading sugary crumbs around. ‘You were over your head in injured and sick people back then!’

‘That hasn’t changed much. And now I also have to rule a whole Tower and bicker with Templars. I would give anything to go on a simple mission like we used to do.’

‘Yeah,’ Hawke smirked, ‘”The Good Ole Days” of whopping culprits and giving the gangs of Kirkwall a what for. I miss them too ever so often. But then again,’ she tapped her midsection, ‘I have a very legitimate reason to let them behind. For the moment at least. I’m not as agile as I used to be and to threaten a bunch of cutthroats with a pregnant belly doesn’t seem like such a good idea.’

‘I don’t know about that. I bet they would be more than surprised. You could astonish them to death.’

Hawke choked on her swill of tea while having a fit of laughter. ‘I almost would like to try it, just for the effect. But I’m afraid Fenris won’t let me and I think he might be right.’

‘So,’ Anders inquired, wiping his mouth after another quaff, ‘when can I take the little bugger home?’

Albran shrugged. ‘Today, if you want to. It’s not as if you’re ripping him away from his mother. You can give him the same treatment he’s getting here.’

The kittens had finished their puddle of milk and the newly dubbed Ser Munch-a-Lot lashed out at his nearest sister, probably out of frustration the food had gone.

‘He is rather feisty, isn’t he?’ Anders observed.

‘He tries to boss his sisters around but they aren’t very impressed,’ Hawke giggled. ‘Sometimes they pretend to be but that’s only because they know Rascal will call him back to order.’ Anders raised his brow unbelievingly. ‘It’s true, I swear. And they laugh at him behind his back, the poor sod. And of course Miss Ivy has Fenris to run to; that is, if he’s around. Munch thinks twice to harass her if he is.’

‘Sounds to me it’s high time to move him to an environment where he can be the king,’ Anders grinned, ‘and before he gets used to being called Munch. You seem to be an expert on making up ridiculous names. At least for animals.’

But of course the name stuck.

-

‘Oh bloody hell! Can’t you stop bothering me and let me sleep for just _one_ night!’

With a jolt Fenris flew up. ‘What? What did I do?’ he asked bewildered and more or less out of habit, his voice thick with sleep. It was as good as a Pavlov reaction; she yelled, he reacted guiltily, even though he didn’t know why and she, moreover, had made it clear most of her trepidations weren’t due to him. Or better: none of them. He grumpily drew himself out of his well-earned sleep to see she was near to tears.

‘I’m sorry,’ she managed, half crying.

He crumpled at once.

They were lying under clean but by now rather trampled sheets and blankets with a brand-new canopy above their heads. Even now the room vaguely smelled of paint and new cloth. He still wrinkled his nose, if only because of the memory of those hectic days happening not long ago. The only light came from a small oil lamp standing on the desk facing the window. Since Albran had to relieve herself at least twice or three times a night because of the nowadays constant pressure on her bladder, a string of lights winded their way from the bedroom, along the stairwell to the bathroom next to the kitchen so she didn’t have to find her goal in the dark. She stubbornly refused to use a chamber pot.

‘I’m sorry,’ Albran repeated meekly, ‘I didn’t mean to wake you up, but she’s pestering me like mad. The moment I lay down she starts to kick and punch me around. It’s driving me crazy. I absolutely can’t get any sleep.’

Fenris breathed more freely. ‘No need to apologize, love. She’s my child as well as yours; you don’t have to be only one lying awake.’

‘But you have to get up early ...’

Fenris just looked at her with a slightly raised brow and a faint lopsided smile and she blushed profusely. ‘Alright, yes, there were many times I didn’t take that into consideration.’

‘You won’t hear me complain about the reason why. Now let us try to calm her down, shall we?’ He placed his hands gently on her stomach and immediately felt all the commotion going on inside her body. ‘She _is_ rather agitated at the moment. It looks like she’s having one hell of a party.’

‘It _feels_ like she’s putting up one hell of a fight,’ Hawke groused. ‘She always goes like that the moment I try to take my rest. I told you before she likes to be cradled.’ She smirked cheekily. ‘And I’m afraid you can’t pacify her with pieces of ham.’

Fenris’s brows shot into his hair and he changed colour. ‘How do you ...’ He groaned. ‘I should have known you spotted that.’

Hawke couldn’t hide the twinkle in her eyes. ‘It was most endearing. And now you can’t any longer put up the pretence you’re against Miss Ivy staying with us. Admit it, you’re fond of her.

‘Alright, I plead guilty. She is spirited, much like you. And it would devastate Rascal if she would leave the house, she’s his favourite.’

‘Ah, so you’ve noticed that also. Ouch!’ she suddenly cried out. ‘You little ... damn it; I think this time she seriously bruised a rib!’

‘Right. Time to take measures.’ With a swift and deftly manoeuvre Fenris caught a little foot making a bulge in Albran’s tight skin. He bowed over his wife and tenderly grazed her lower stomach with his lips.

‘Take care,’ Albran said sourly, ‘she has a mean uppercut. Before you know it she leaves you with a black eye. A true rogue already and no mistake.’

Fenris chuckled softly while he said, ‘Listen, little one, this is your father speaking. I think it is wise to let you mother sleep, don’t you agree? She is the one who has to put you onto this world and she needs a whole lot of energy to do so. Grant her some peace, as much for her benefit as yours.’ He let go of the tiny foot. ‘That’s my girl.’

To her amazement Albran felt the baby immediately calm down and stop flailing her little but ferocious limbs around. ‘Wow!’ she exhaled with admiration, ‘she responds to the sound of your voice and she isn’t even born yet. I wished I’d known about this magic far sooner.’

‘There are still a couple of weeks left. That’s a lot of nights,’ Fenris replied, with a bad attempt at trying to conceal his pride. ‘You will have the chance of enjoying your nightly rest as yet.’

-

Hawke had installed herself in the garden under a cream coloured awning that supplied half of the patio with cool shadow on this hot summer’s day. She lounged in a comfortable chair with a few pillows propped up against her sore back and with her bare feet resting on a low stool. She had a jug of home-made ice tea close at hand and a book in her lap. Around her the garden was in full bloom; insects were busily buzzing and various colourful butterflies meandered from flower to flower. Rascal had taken refuge against the sun behind his chosen shrub and Miss Ivy held him company; that is to say, she was fast asleep with her little head lying on one of his big paws. Now and again her whiskers quivered when the movement of a fly or a slowly whirling petal touched her sensitive ears but she was too lazy to wake up and do something about it. Albran only realised she had dozed off herself when Bodahn announced a visitor. With a jerk she awoke to see Sebastian entering the patio.

‘Forgive me,’ the former prince said with a little bow, ‘I didn’t mean to intrude.’

‘No, no, it’s all right,’ Hawke replied, stifling a yawn, ‘I’m glad to see another living being. Please, sit down, enough chairs to pick out. Bodahn, would you be so kind as to bring a glass and a bottle of cooled white wine? I believe we have an excellent Antivan vintage in the cellar.’

‘You are well informed on your stock, even though you don’t drink it yourself at the moment, I presume,’ Sebastian smiled while he sat down.

‘I should be, I’ve dusted the bottles not long ago,’ Hawke smirked, ‘to Fenris’s dismay, I might add. So tell me, to what do I owe this honour?’

‘I came to inquire after your health,’ Sebastian replied gallantly. Bodahn popped up with the asked items and disappeared again into the house.

Hawke gave Sebastian a wan smile. ‘Do you want the truth or the brushed up version? I suppose,’ she gave the answer for him before he could utter a word, ‘since you are a follower of Andraste, you would prefer the truth.’ The smile became a bit impish. Sebastian might have been a womanizer once, she was pretty sure he had had nothing to do with pregnancies, not even with the ones he had undoubtedly caused himself, she suspected. ‘To be honest, I’m getting fed up with being pregnant. It was fun for a time, I mean, the times between the bouts of hysterics obviously,’ she grimaced, ‘which were no fun at all, at least not for Fenris. But now I feel mostly languid and heavy and cooped up.’

Sebastian reached for the bottle and filled his glass with the exquisite white wine. He was noticeably not at ease. ‘But certainly you can go out if you want to? You’re not bedridden?’

‘Sure.’ Hawke grinned. ‘As long as I stick to places with a handy and preferably clean bathroom nearby. And let me tell you, there’re not so many such locations in Kirkwall as you might think.’ She looked at Sebastian’s face with hardly concealed glee.

‘Ah, yes, of course. I can see that would be, er, inconvenient.’ Sebastian tried to disappear behind his glass. ‘By the way, her Grace sends her regards.’ He waltzed the wine around, desperately searching for something to do that would hide his embarrassment.

‘Thank you, that’s nice of her.’ Hawke fidgeted in her chair to relieve the pressure in her back. She made a show of rearranging and poking the pillows, or rather giving them a few good wallops and sinking back in them with a sigh of contentment. She shot the Chantry brother a radiant smile. ‘And there are all the other physical discomforts. I could tell you stories and draw you pictures,’ she said, with wicked cheerfulness studying his ever more becoming tight expression. ‘But that’s not the only reason you’re here.’ It wasn’t a question. She took him by surprise and she knew it. It was such fun to tease him. Anders had Cullen, now _she_ had Sebastian.

‘How do you figure?’ he asked, startled.

‘You’re fiddling with your glass, you’re drawing circles with your finger on the table top and you’re getting redder by the second. And not just because you’re scared to death I’m going to overwhelm you with all the tortures a pregnant woman has to bear. Whatever it is you have to say, come out with it, for the Maker’s sake!’

Sebastian cleared his throat, sat straight and shot her a look lingering between admiration, annoyance, horror and naked fear. ‘I, er, we, that is to say, Elthina and I were wondering ... if you were considering – do you have a name already?’

‘I should certainly think so,’ Hawke replied unperturbed. She would make him sweat as much as possible. ‘Luckily my parents have provided me with one when I was born. I’m called Hawke. Albran Hawke, unless you’ve forgotten ..?’

Sebastian rolled his eyes. ‘Please Hawke –‘

‘Ah, so you _did_ remember.’ She burst out laughing when she caught his tense, near to exploding expression and at the same time became serious again. She closed her eyes for a moment and bit her lip before she said, ‘I know what this is all about. You’re here to inform if I’m willing to hold the name-giving ceremony in the Chantry and the answer is no.’ She knew it sounded blunt and that had been her intension. She tried to curb the sudden anger that engulfed her. She didn’t want it to disturb this beautiful summer’s day. Her emotions still ran rampant at the slightest disturbance and she hated it. It was one of the side-effects of being pregnant she absolutely would not miss.

Sebastian stared at her for a few strained moments. ‘Why not?’

Albran inhaled deeply. _Don’t shout at him. He doesn’t deserve that. He means well._ ‘I’ll try to explain and, please, for once do try to see someone’s point of view without the mingling of your omnipresent Andraste? For once, don’t be one-sided?’

Sebastian nodded at her. ‘I promise. Go ahead.’

She folded her hands around her belly and felt her child move.

‘Both my father and sister were free mages, apostates you’d call them. A term with so much negative weight attached to it. As if  “apostate” equals “criminal” or, worse: “demon”. Your Chantry has done nothing but condemn them and chase them like vermin and make their lives as difficult as possible. Despite the fact they were wonderful persons with a good and generous heart and would rather die than harm anyone, they were labelled by your kind of people as extremely dangerous, no better than rabid beasts. Do you really think that I would carry my child into a so-called holy house of your faith, a house of your institution that believes that my kin, the father and sister I cherished and loved dearly, could have fallen for demons and turned into abominations on a whim? That they ought to be locked up because they could be as trusted as a dog with rabies? That they should be isolated from society as if they were infected with a deadly disease? Well, _I_ don’t think so.’

The teasing was over, she had all but spoiled it. She felt tears pricking behind her eyes and bowed her head. She clenched her fists and cursed herself. Again she had driven herself over the edge, though this time not by an unreasonable outburst. For some reason it only made it worse. She really was too sensitive at the moment. The baby moved some more and she knew for sure that within now and a few seconds she would burst out in violent kicking. She always sensed her mood.

A heavy silence fell. The only sound came from the still buzzing insects and the muffled voices from the street beyond the walls surrounding the garden.

Finally Sebastian said with a quiet voice, ‘You humble me, Albran.’ Surprised she looked up at the mention of her first name and saw his face. He looked pained. ‘You are right, I have been one-sided. Biased, even. I never wanted to see your side of the story. To see the side of so many stories like yours. I am so sorry.’

He blinked and it seemed to her he blinked tears away.

After a short silence he added with a brittle smile, ‘So perhaps it is only a bliss Anders is now the First Enchanter. He has refreshing ideas. He changes things. In a good way.’

The way he uttered those words made her suspect he hadn’t been all too happy with Anders’s appointment to start with. The thought _“I can just hope Cullen hasn’t passed all of Anders’s silly  pranks he has bought for real on to the Grand Cleric”_ briefly crossed her mind.

She sniffed. ‘Perhaps I should have taken the time to make it more clear to you.’

Sebastian shook his head. ‘No, I should have thought of it myself.’ He smiled faintly. ‘I’m afraid my education has stood in the way; as a prince I was virtually taught I was always right.’ He gave out a soft chuckle. ‘And that wasn’t even the reason I came here.’

Hawke frowned surprised. ‘It was not?’

‘For a part I was. I admit I came to persuade you to have the name-giving in the Chantry but not for the obvious reason. I, er, I heard rumours.’ He coughed delicately and Hawke groaned in understanding.

‘Let me guess, my rant about the old know-all biddies has made the round through all the noble houses of Hightown and they hate me even more than ever.’

Sebastian couldn’t prevent a hearty laugh. ‘Something like that. Although I understand their husbands loved it.’ He became serious again. ‘Listen Hawke, I may be one-sided and tend to see things mostly my way, but I grasp at least you must be worried about your child, I mean yours and Fenris’s child.’

‘You _mean_ a half-bred,’ Hawke snapped venomously. ‘Because if there’s anything the _humans_ of Thedas hate, or should I say fear, more than abominations, it’s half-breeds.’

‘Indeed.’ Unspoken suggestions hovered in the air.

She looked at him, saw his honest open look, thought a few hard and intricate thoughts for a moment and then comprehension dawned. ‘You’re trying to make clear that giving a grand ceremony in the Chantry will help accepting our child. To let her be treated like a so-called normal person.’ She closed her eyes and elaborated on the subject she had brought up a few moments before. ‘Because everyone knows elves, let alone _half-breeds’_ (she spat the word with so much hatred and revulsion Sebastian flinched) ‘are treated even worse than apostates. Sometimes even worse than abominations.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But when the Grand Cleric blesses such a child, there is nothing anyone can put forward to reject her.’ Her eyes wandered with a glassy look into the distance for a moment. ‘That would be the perfect solution,’ she whispered.

‘But,’ she added nearly audible a heartbeat later, ‘wouldn’t I betray my father and sister by indulging the putrid philosophies of the nobles?’

‘I think your kin would understand,’ Sebastian said softly, ‘and believe me, I’m not preaching to the choir by saying this. I think they would understand that this baby is family. And you always want to protect your family.’

Albran mused he knew what he was talking about. She took a breath. ‘Yes. I suppose that’s true.’

Sebastian just lifted a corner of his mouth in a half smirk. ‘I made the round. All the “old know-all biddies” as you call them so strikingly, became giddy at the idea of being seen in the company of all the other old know-all biddies. In their best finery of course. And they were stumbling over their words to admit they were more than happy to recognize the offspring of the Champion and her most beloved and respected elven husband as a new most promising member of society.’

His words hit home with the force of a battering ram, in this case a battering ram adorned with roses and lilacs and lavender and in a haze of tears Hawke jumped up, tripped over the low stool and got just in time caught by Sebastian before she fell. ‘Thank you,’ she sobbed.

He gently held her in his arms. ‘No need to thank me.’

‘You just solved my darkest fear. How can I _not_ thank you?!’

He felt her baby kick through the thin fabric of her dress and decided this became too intimate. He kindly lowered her down on her chair. ‘You’re more than welcome. You taught me a valuable lesson today.’

‘What lesson,’ she asked, still dazed.

‘Always learn before you judge,’ he smiled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still can't get my mind around how the crew of Dragon Age had the nerve to mutulate Anders till he became completely unrecognizable. And he was such a bright, witty and cheerful character in the Awakening! It was such a disappointment to find out how he had changed; it took me three times of playing the game until I accepted he might wear the name of Anders but, in fact, was a completely different character. What a shame.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if it is necessary to give out a warning about the horror of a birth-scene..? Ah well, "horror" is perhaps too strong a word. Read and judge for yourself!
> 
> Enjoy!

Cullen stormed into Anders’s office. ‘This time you’ve really gone too far!’ he shouted infuriated. He was wildly waving a piece of parchment around before he pushed it under the First Enchanter’s nose. ‘What the heck were you thinking?!’

Anders just raised his brow. Delicately. ‘You’re free to swear, you know. I won’t faint from words like “hell” and “fuck”. I don’t think anyone in this Circle will; we’ve all heard worse. Don’t restrain yourself. Just let it all out.’ He smiled captivatingly but, to his disappointment, the Knight Commander didn’t buy it.

Cullen thumped the desk with vicious force. ‘Will you stop for just one moment to make fun of everything? This is a serious matter! You hold an important position and with it comes great responsibility! What, do you think, would have been the consequences if anyone besides me would have read this ... this... outrageous note!!’

‘Fucking note?’ suggested Anders innocently. But he backed down when he saw Cullen’s face. The Knight Commander was about to combust.

Without the warning of a knock the door got opened, or rather bashed in. ‘First Enchanter?’ an urgent voice sounded and a young Templar appeared in the door opening.

Cullen turned around with the speed of a viper. ‘Not now!’ he spat, exasperated. ‘Make yourself scarce!’

‘But –‘ the Templar tried desperately.

‘Get out!’ the Knight Commander all but screamed. In his worked-up distress he was about to draw his sword and the young man scrambled terrified out of his way. He had never seen his superior like this.

About an hour later Cullen would find out what he had caused with chasing the messenger away. Right now he swirled aggravated back to Anders and picked up the heated argument where the young Templar had interrupted it.

‘I know you do this to harass me and to see how far you can push me. Well, let me tell you, _this_ time you have pushed me over the edge. _This_ time you have pushed it to the limit. I’m about to relieve you of your function. In some way you’re worse than Meredith ever was!’  
_Maddening, but impossible to hate_ , he thought in despair, _and loved by the people to boot. Aargh!_   

Anders had launched his latest prank that had come up in his mind while visiting Albran Hawke: the suggestion of abandoning the Harrowing, the ultimate test mages had to undergo to prove they were strong enough to resist the temptations of whatever demons would come up with to lure them in. He had considered it another humorous stunt to tease the Knight Commander.

Of course he knew the test was necessary, if only to apprehend the mages who were too weak before they could do irreparable damage. At least he had succeeded in banishing the atrocity of the rite of Tranquillity. The ones who hadn’t passed the test were housed in an isolated department of the Tower and were watched closely by Templars who were thoroughly trained for this special task. They were even granted a second chance to prove themselves. In this case, for those specific mages, the Tower indeed was a prison but at least they were allowed to keep their wit and conscience, instead of being turned into walking automatons. And they were allowed to make use of the library and to have visitors. It had been a great victory.

But, looking at the Knight Commander’s fuming expression, Anders realised he now had overstepped the boundaries. Cullen was right; if anyone besides them two had seen the note, it could have had a dire outcome. He deflated. ‘Forgive me,’ he said humbly, ‘I got carried away. Please sit down.’

Cullen still glared daggers at him but nevertheless took in a deep breath to regain his self-control and lowered himself in the chair opposite the desk. ‘I’m getting the impression you’re not taking the position of First Enchanter seriously,’ he hissed between clenched teeth, ready to flee or fight at the same time. He still was struggling with the change of power and finding his own path in between. He had been scared as hell for Meredith and didn’t know what to expect from this mage upstart. But he had decided to put his foot down and was willing to show it. He had all but forgotten he was the Knight Commander and was the one to wield the power. The situation was still too strange. And so he was willing to listen to his First Enchanter.

Anders made a pacifying gesture with one hand while he with the other one uncorked a bottle of rare Orlesian cognac. ‘On the contrary, my friend,’ he said soothingly, ‘although I admit I like a good joke now and again. And keep in mind I’m still mostly used to be hunted by Templars than working together with them.’ He offered Cullen a glass which the latter grudgingly accepted.

Cullen rubbed his brow and sighed. It was, of course, true what Anders said. Just as he, the other man had to get used to the new circumstances. He understood his predicament because he knew the one of his own. He felt his anger seep away. ‘Alright. I’m willing to turn a blind eye – once again. But it will be for the last time. For the Maker’s sake, man, bear in mind the power you wield nowadays! Stop misusing it.’

Anders bit his lip; he appreciated the truth of Cullen’s words. He indeed ought to stop this childish behaviour. But then again, it _had_ been only till recently he had had to fear the Templars like hell. It was still as good as incomprehensible he was now on equal terms with his former enemies. And besides that, the sudden absence of Justice still sometimes made him float. There was so much space in his head to fill. He just had to stop filling it with silly ideas.

Another knock came. Or rather, another bash. This time it was Keran who tried to catch their attention. ‘First Enchanter?’

‘Get out!’ Anders cried out, highly irritated. ‘Can’t you see I’m occupied?!’

But Keran, courageously, stood his ground. ‘First Enchanter, Ser, it’s the Champion. She’s gone into labour.’

-

‘Are you sure you’re fine with this, Messere?’ Bodahn sounded concerned.

‘Of course I am,’ Albran reacted, a tad irritably. ‘I can take care of myself for a few hours, don’t you worry. And the baby is not due until another week. Now go and have fun.’

It was the day of the Kirkwall Summer Festival and Hawke knew Orana would very much like to partake in the festivities, although the elven girl had said nothing about it. At least not to her directly. She had had to overhear a little conversation between her and Bodahn to find out. About how much the small elf would like to visit Lowtown on this day. But, however, had stated she didn’t want to leave Albran alone. And thus, ridden with guilt mixed with some annoyance, Albran had more or less ordered her to go. She had been more than happy to see how the girl had flourished over the past years, even so much that she didn’t hesitate nowadays to boss the mistress of the house around. Albran loved her dearly and had decided Orana had earned this day off. And, she had reasoned, after all the stressful months, so had Bodahn and Sandal.

The festival was held in Lowtown, that is for the so called common folk. The nobility seized the day for their annual High Society Picnic in a lustrous meadow just outside the walls of Hightown. Hawke had received an invitation but, of course, wasn’t able to go. She had declined politely. If her advanced pregnancy couldn’t be a legitimate reason to leave the fabled and notorious picnic for what it was, nothing would be. In that case even the diplomacy of a former Prince wouldn’t be of use.

‘I have prepared a bath and there’s a pitcher with fresh ice tea in the pantry,’ Orana said, lingering on the doorstep, still hesitating.

‘Thank you, you’re priceless. Now go!’ Hawke urged her on, almost pushing her over the threshold. Just being alone for a couple of hours without anybody fussing about her was a very welcome prospect. Her servants out of the way, Fenris in the Barracks for the last training session before the Guards would be allowed to plunge into the festivities … peace and quiet for at least two hours. Heaven on earth.

While she ambled to the bathroom, she suddenly felt an extremely brutal stab of pain in her lower back. For a moment she couldn’t breathe and had to hold on to the wall. She exhaled slowly while the pain subsided. ‘Bloody hell,’ she cursed, ‘my back is getting worse by the day, it’s killing me.’

When she was able to walk again, she entered the bathroom, stripped off her dressing gown and nightshift and with a sigh of utter gratification she lowered herself in the hot water. As she had hoped the pain immediately abated; it worked better than a painkiller, though, she had to admit, not as good as Fenris’s wonderful fingers. At least, the influence of their work lasted longer. She leaned her head against the back of the tub and closed her eyes. ‘Bless Orana and her bath,’ she murmured. Her belly felt hard and uncomfortable but not alarmingly more so than the past two weeks. And also that discomfort dissolved. The surrounding warmth lulled her into some kind of slumber until the cooling water woke her up. Time to get dressed and find a nice place in the garden to spend the morning with a good book and a pitcher of Orana’s wonderful tasting iced tea. And to experience the amazing pleasure of the peace and quiet she hoped would last for a while longer.

She clambered out of the tub and reached for a towel. At the same moment she got hit by a vicious cramp in the lower part of her belly. She winced with pain and with sudden insight realised the warm bath must have dulled the ache of the first contractions. This time the hardness of her belly hadn’t been some kind of exercise, as Anders had put it. This time it was the real stuff.

‘Oh no, not now,’ she groaned, ‘how could you! You, you ... you pig-headed piece of a girl! Of all the days to choose from, you have to pick this one!’ She called out Rascal’s name; she could send him to the Keep to fetch Fenris, but when no reply came she remembered the elf had taken the dog this morning with him to the Barracks to teach the Guardsmen who weren’t on duty this day a valuable lesson about being swift and run as hard as you can. Before he would send them off so they too could enjoy the holiday.

She was on her own.

Hawke straightened her back, her poor tortured back. ‘Right,’ she said determinedly, ‘only one thing to do.’

-

Later she could, for the love of the Maker, not recall how she had managed to get dressed, if even in the simple robes she just had to wrap around her body, and even less how she had pulled it off to reach the Keep. Hightown had seemed deserted in an oddly and eerily way. Even the merchant dwarfs were absent, seizing the opportunity of imbibing huge amounts of alcohol in the streets and market places of Lowtown. And even the servants of the nobles had followed their employers to the lustrous meadow outside the gate. As every year at the day of the Festival, Hightown was the one place in Kirkwall nobody lingered. There was no one she could warn or ask for help.

The Viscount Way, stripped off all living beings, went on forever; there came no end to the steps of the stately stairways.

Ever so often Hawke had to stop when another contraction took her in a hot iron grip but finally she accomplished to conquer the stairs. She leant against a column to catch her breath and felt something warm and moist leaking down her legs. Great. Her waters had broken. It couldn’t get any better. So, no time to loiter here. By now she was counting in contractions instead of steps and it took her three to stumble along the colonnade before she arrived at the Keep’s entrance.

Two men were standing guard and they stared with growing astonishment at her haggard appearance. _Fuck fuck fuck, why couldn’t they have been women?!!_

‘Champion!’ one of them cried out.

‘Open. That. Bloody. Door,’ Hawke panted, aggravated.

Without further comment one guard threw the heavy doors open while the other rushed forward to grab her arm. Together they helped her inside and supported her, but halfway the hall her knees gave way when a new particularly forceful contraction scourged her body. She couldn’t suppress a loud scream.

‘What is the meaning of this? Messere Hawke! What are you doing here?’ suddenly a dour voice sounded.

Hanging between the two guardsmen Hawke looked up at the sulky face of Seneschal Bran who was standing at the top of the stairs. ‘What does it look like I’m doing? Giving birth in your glorious hall, you moron,’ she gritted, incensed.

‘What?’ the Seneschal reacted in alarmed panic. ‘You can’t do that! You have to go home!’

‘You would kick out a woman in labour?!’ She had wanted to add a lot more words, something of the sort of very colourful swearwords, but another torment took hold of her body; a particularly fierce torment that tried to squeeze her into a far too small corset made out of spikes with the help of fiery pokers. She came no further than a pitiful pained cry.

‘Get Fenris over here, you idiot!’ one of the guards yelled at Bran, all due regards forgotten. The Seneschal turned on his heels and fled.

‘Yes, Fenris,’ Hawke mumbled, fighting for some air and sanity. ‘I need Fenris.’

‘Can I get you something, lass?’ the elder of the two Guardsmen asked friendly. ‘A glass of water perhaps? Jannis, fetch a chair so the lady can sit down.’

‘I don’t want to sit down,’ Hawke wheezed. For some reason she had the feeling that sitting down only would make things worse. She tried to gather some dignity. ‘I’m sorry for this.’

‘Don’t worry about it, lass. My wife and I have four children so I know all about the ins and outs.’ He grinned softly at the pun but backed down at the sight of her screwed up face. A woman giving birth for the first time was not something to be mocked with. Women giving birth in generally wasn’t. ‘Don’t worry,’ he repeated remorsefully, ‘you’re doing fine.’

She didn’t believe him  but halfway her stuttered answer a new wave of excruciating torture attacked her. Before she could prevent it she let out another scream of agony. And then she felt two strong arms around her and heard a soothing with dark sugar coated rough velvet voice. ‘It’s all right, love, I’m here.’

‘Fenris,’ she sobbed, overflowing with gratitude.

‘Breathe,’ he ordered her, ‘keep breathing.’ He breathed with her and together they overcame the next contraction. When it was over he looked over her shoulder. ‘Has Anders been warned?’

‘I, er I don’t know,’ the young Guardsman named Jannis stammered. His elder colleague was trying to shake back some life into his squashed hand.

‘See to it right now. Run to the Gallows as fast as you can.’ He feared the First Enchanter wouldn’t be here in time but at least they had to try.

‘I would fight another Arishok anytime,’ he heard Albran grunt, ‘piece of cake, that one. Compared to this.’ And despite the situation he had to laugh. ‘Let’s get you into the Barracks. We can find a decent bed there.’

Albran eyed the flight of steps separating her from that goal and her heart sank into her stomach. ‘No, no more stairs. I can’t handle more stairs.’ She saw Donnic and Lieutenant Brennan had come with Fenris and were looking at her with anxiety. And again a powerful contraction deprived her off what she had wanted to say. ‘My back,’ she groaned because it felt like their child tried to make its way out of her body by her spine rather than taking the obvious road. Fenris lowered her on the floor and she felled a hand pressing into her tormented area.

‘I know my Mum had the same,’ she heard Brennan say, ‘pain in her back.’ The lieutenant pressed some more and Fenris acted as some counterpoint. It was pure bliss. ‘Thank you,’ she breathed.

And then she felt a pressing force and the character of the contractions changed. Suddenly all she wanted to do was push, get it over with, to get rid of this agony. To get rid of this child. She let out a loud groan. She swatted Fenris’s hand away when he tried to gather her into her arms. ‘Leave it,’ she growled.

Knowing better than to oppose her, he called to no-one in particular, ‘I need fresh water and clean cloth.’ His heart hammered in his chest but he became calm the moment after. With the absence of Anders, he had to be here for her. Forcefully he pushed away his feelings of panic and the disturbing thoughts of all the things that could go wrong. Nothing would go wrong. He would help her to put their child into the world. He had no choice, he had to do it. It was clear as water.

Donnic darted away to do his bidding.

‘Listen to me, love,’ Fenris said urgently and at the same time with all the calm he could muster.

She heaved her upper body and spat, ‘No, _you_ listen to _me_. I’m the one here giving birth and – fucking hell.’

Another pressing contraction hit her and deprived her of her speech. She screamed some more and some louder, but not from pain. For one reason or another the screaming helped with gathering the strength to push this child into the world.

‘You’re doing well,’ she heard Brennan say.

‘Really?’ she groaned. She felt a scouring pain going down her vagina. ‘ _You_ try to give birth to a ball of sandpaper,’ she yelled with distress.

Vaguely she was aware of a whole bunch of Guardsmen who had gathered around the spot where she lay in agony; she couldn’t care less. Fenris had taken position between her legs. It was not an entirely strange vision, though most of the times before it had given her pleasure, not pain. ‘You _are_ doing wonderful,’ he assured her. ‘I can see the head.’

She was fighting for breath. Again.

‘You’re just saying that because – damn!’ And another powerful contraction overwhelmed her. She had no other choice than to follow her instincts, to follow the language of her body that, far better than her brain, knew what to do.

‘Push,’ Fenris said calmly, ‘one more time.’

In fact, he was very much drowning in his own anxiety, despite his efforts of ignoring it. But Hawke wouldn’t benefit by him getting all panicky, so he shoved that panic down his throat and concentrated on what was important. Calming her, getting her to breathe and give birth. To push, which was the most important thing to do at this very moment. He was glad he had had some conversations with Anders about what was to be expected. The First Enchanter had stubbornly insisted “in case of”, and now the “in case of” had become reality, Fenris was very grateful with that perseverance. ‘Push,’ he ordered once more.

And she pushed. She had thought she was exhausted but now she felt invigorated. New energy flew through her body and filled her muscles with strong power. She pushed like mad. If only to get it over with.

‘The head is standing,’ she heard Fenris say from another universe. She was completely soaked up with doing this job. And at the same time her thoughts were fluttering. This was not happening. It was too unreal to be true. This wasn’t her, lying on the cold marble floor of the Keep’s hall, surrounded by Guardsmen and –women who were just gathered here for a breather and a cold drink well-earned after a hard training session on a hot summer’s day. And now they witnessed the birth of her child.

‘Push,’ Fenris commanded again. And she did. With all of her might.

She could feel something slip. At the same time Fenris acted with speed and deftly got a strong hold on whatever had appeared out of her body.

Suddenly the all-consuming pressure subsided and she fell back. Brennan caught her. The feeble and at the same time strong protesting wails of a new-born baby filled the air. Together with the simultaneously held and now exhaling breaths of at least twenty Guardsmen, young recruits and all. The all cheered and applauded.

She tried to see what Fenris held in his hands but failed. She just caught his face that looked a bit puzzled. Then he turned to her and smiled broadly.

‘Congratulations my love,’ he said with a badly concealed sob and at the same time brilliant smile, ‘you just graced me with a wonderful son.’

‘What?’

Hawke worked herself up on her elbows and with an unbelieving look on her face managed, ‘Son? Not a daughter? I was so certain ...’

Fenris looked the new-born over and said, ‘If you insist on calling him a daughter, be my guest but our child has a, how to put it, an appendage I believe no girl has.’   

She burst out with laughter and moments after with tears. Brennan embraced her, not ashamed to hold back her own tears. Donnic raced forward with some towels. ‘It’s the best I could do,’ he said apologetically. Fenris wiped the most of the grease off his son with one towel and wrapped him in the other. He gave the little head a tender kiss before he presented him to his wife and laid him gently in her yearning arms.

She embraced the little body and put him close to her chest. She nuzzled him and smelled the sweet aroma he radiated. At the same time some old, primal instinct stirred, a feeling she later called the she-bear instinct, the overwhelming feeling to protect her child from any harm that could harass him. To murder anyone who would dare to hurt him. Then she took the time to take him in. A shock of pitch black hair, bright opened blue eyes that looked at her as if his life depended upon it, which, of course, pretty much was the truth when it came down to it, slightly curved ears but still recognizable as from elven origin, a very small lovely straight nose and a little pronounced pert chin. 

‘He is beautiful,’ she sighed.

‘He is,’ Fenris agreed compassionated and kissed her softly. ‘I’m so proud of you.’

‘He looks just like you.’

Their son changed his piercing look and his eyes lingered upon his father’s face. ‘My lovely sweet one,’ Fenris said softly. Little arms wavered aimlessly and he caught a small hand. Tiny fingers clamped with strength around his suddenly huge seeming index finger and clutched with the force of a vice. It again brought him to tears.

‘He recognizes your timbre,’ Albran smiled, ‘he listens to his father’s voice.’

He kissed his son, he kissed his wife and held them both. He felt elated.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where the ridiculous thought comes from that so-called half-breeds always look human (what kind of disgusting racist idea is that anyway?!) But just look at Feynriel and you know that's rubbish.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby's coming home...
> 
> Enjoy!

An Unexpected Surprise Chapter 7

-

Anders barged into the Keep. He came to a slipping halt when he saw Albran lying with a little bundle in her arms and Fenris squatting next to her. The elf turned his head while still holding on to his son, or the other way around.

‘You’re just in time,’ he beamed, ‘just in time to admire our child.’ Never before had Anders seen him smile like that; he shone as if he had entered the Golden City itself.

With difficulty the mage managed to keep himself from sliding over the smooth marble surface any further. ‘Can I hold him?’ he asked when he had reached them without any accidents. ‘To check him?’ he added hastily, afraid the new parents would take his request as an indication of danger and would turn against him, growling and with bared teeth. He was all too well familiar with the “she-bear instinct”; he had once been bitten by a mother who had just given birth, for no other offence than wanting to see if everything was alright with her infant.

But thankfully both Albran and Fenris understood the importance of giving their son at least a once-over. After he had granted Fenris the honour of cutting the cord, he examined the little child more thoroughly but could not find anything amiss. It was a healthy baby, all ten little toes and fingers present, full of vigour and with a strong will to survive. He laid him back into his mother’s arms. ‘Have you decided on a name?’

‘He has blue eyes,’ Albran mused dreamily, seemingly not hearing the question at all.

‘The colour of the eyes can change. I bet he will have green ones before the year is over,’ Anders smiled. ‘Will his name be “Blue Eyes”?’

‘No,’ Albran responded, still dreamily, ‘his name will be Leto.’

Fenris sprang to attention, not to say he contorted. ‘No! That’s a slave name!’ He shivered with abhorrence. ‘You cannot call our son that!’

Albran looked up, apparently not disturbed at all, a little smile playing around her lips.

‘No love. It’s the name your mother bestowed upon you. A name given out of love. A mother’s love, and by now I know what that means. It has nothing to do with slaves. On the contrary. The name represents freedom. Her freedom of giving you the name she liked.’

He stared at her, first at a loss for words, gradually in awe. ‘You’re right,’ he managed in the end, after a lot of consideration. She _was_ right, Leto _was_ a name given out of love. A name chosen in freedom, probably the only freedom his mother had known.

Albran went on, less dreamily but more alert this time, ‘I thought I was carrying a daughter, it turned out to be a lovely son. I want him to have the name you once had. The real name of the man I love. The name _your_ mother gave to _her_ son. The name I now choose for our son.’

And yet again he almost broke out in tears. He knew he should be thankful. And he knew he was.

She turned to Anders. ‘You knew all the time, didn’t you?’

‘Yes,' Anders confessed, ‘I knew all the time you carried a son and not a daughter.’

‘I wonder how much money you have gained,’ Albran grinned. ‘And I bet Varric must have a field-day by now.’

‘He hasn’t because he was wrong. I won the bet but I will give it all to the funds of the poor,’ Anders promised, in a sudden attack of piety. ‘And now we will have to move you to the Barracks. Whether you like it or not, this birth isn’t over yet.’

The afterbirth was just a matter of moments. Fenris held her and together they held Leto. She never even was aware.

-

‘Shouldn’t I try to breastfeed him?’ asked Albran hesitantly. She was sitting in her glorious four poster bed in her own house by now and Leto was slumbering with a heavenly expression on his mostly elven adorable little face in her arms.

Before he could help himself Anders petted her. Any other being to try that gamble she would have knocked flat down. Or bitten a hand off, instead of just leaving her teeth marks. Well, everyone besides Fenris of course. But she was in a very forgiving mood at the moment. `

‘No,’ Anders explained, ‘he has been fed shortly before his birth. Through the umbilical cord. Don’t worry. The few spoons of sugary water Orana has given him will be enough for the coming hours.’

‘Right.’ She felt as if she had stumbled into a strange new world she knew nothing about, which was, of course, pretty much true. So she relied gratefully on Anders and his lore of births and infants. And on Orana who, to her surprise, knew astonishingly much about the subject.

Fenris had accompanied her not an hour before to the estate while carrying their son. He had been willing to carry her as well but she had firmly protested against it, stating she was very well capable to walk on her own account. She had wanted to carry their son herself but in the end had granted him his moment of utmost glory by presenting Leto to the public. Because, of course, the news had run through Kirkwall like a wildfire. The Summer Festival and even the High Society Picnic had moved to Hightown and had turned into the celebration of the new-born son of the Champion and her spouse.

She was proud of Fenris. In a way he resembled Orana and her fears when they had found her in those dismal caves, while hunting for Hadriana. The elven girl had conquered her nightmares, he had done the same with his. And now he was her husband and the father of their son, not afraid of showing his pride and happiness in public.

In fact, she more than he had been terrified to face the people who had rushed from Lowtown and the pasture close to the city’s northern gate to pay homage to them and their son. She didn’t even know why. But she had been sucked into a bubble of happiness, a private bubble and she didn’t want to leave it. And for some reason suddenly all those cheering people made her feel uncomfortable. She was afraid they would throng and trample her and Leto. It didn’t make any sense, she knew, and thus, before her mind would run rampant, she fell back on Fenris.

Because all the time Fenris had glowed with ecstasy and had held her close. On him she could rely, he was the solid rock she could build on in this overwhelming torrent. He was the reason why she had been able to smile and descend the stairs she not hours earlier with so much stress had surmounted. He and little Leto.

And, of course, Orana, who had hurriedly emerged from the mass to guide her into her own house. And had made her a cup of tea. And had dressed little Leto in one of the tiny garments they had purchased not a fortnight earlier. And had embraced her and Fenris. Albran had been more than gratified to sink down in the pillows of her bed. Only then she had realised how tired she was.

-

And now came Varric. He slapped Fenris, who was handing out drinks in the parlour to various inquisitive nobles the elf tried to keep at bay, on the back. ‘Best midwife she ever could get,’ he beamed. Without further ado he climbed the stairs and stepped into the bedroom, surprised he found Isabela there.

The pirate queen had sat silently with Leto in her lap. She hadn’t said anything, just had looked at the little boy. Now and again she had softly caressed his fuzzy black hair and touched his small straight nose. The moment Varric entered the room she gave Leto back to Albran. ‘Enjoy him,’ she said with a strained smile and disappeared.

The dwarf and the human shared a look. The human took the initiative.

‘I think she has lost more that she is willing to share,’ Albran said quietly. She had seen the look in Isabela’s eyes. It spoke of deep grief. And that very moment she had realised the pirate queen may have a big mouth about hating marriages and children being a non-topic, but that it influenced and touched her more than she was willing to admit. Being a new mother herself, Albran now, to her surprise, recognized the streak in other women. And thus recognized it in Isabela.

Her breath hitched. But, then again, there was nothing she could do about it. Nevertheless she said to her beloved dwarf, ‘I think she’s a mother. And some very bleak occurrences happened she doesn’t want to be remembered of. And so she doesn’t want to be a mother anymore.’       

Varric sat next to her on the bed. ‘I think you’re right,’ he admitted. He smiled bleakly. ‘She doesn’t want to speak about it. Perhaps we should stay quiet as well.’  

And then he smiled broadly at her and said, ‘There are more important things to be busy about right now!’

He removed his sturdy leather glove and traced the opposed skin of a stubby finger along Leto’s little sleeping face. His index finger seemed even more ginormous than Fenris’s thumb. He was surprised at the softness of the baby skin. And even more surprised at his own emotion when he saw the small eyelashes fluttery react to his touch. And the baby-blue eyes open to look intently at him. With difficulty he swallowed back a big lump.

‘You know, I’ve never seen your elf so delighted. He definitely lost his former nickname. I think he doesn’t even _know_ how to brood anymore.’ 

‘You’re going to turn this into some grandiose story, aren’t you,’ Albran said flatly.

‘Of course I am,’ Varric beamed some more, ‘although I don’t have to add much to the facts.’ He cocked his head. ‘Maybe I will come up with something like you gave birth in the middle of killing a high dragon. Or a harsh battle with Tevinter slavers.’

‘Oh please, Varric, isn’t the truth sufficient for you? It was an idiotic situation enough as it was. I mean, me lying screaming and pushing on the floor of the Keep’s hall with all those guards assembled around me, Seneschal Bran throwing up, Anders coming too late and a very frustrated Aveline who’d missed all the fun because she had to confer diplomatically with some envoy of Orlais? The very envoy who so graciously joined Bran in the vomiting? And you want to drag dragons and slavers into it?’

Varric laughed. ‘You’re right, madam. This time the truth beats everything I can come up with. And to top it all, the girl you were dead sure you were having turned out to be a boy.’

Albran turned her attention back to her son, by doing so missing the sudden misted over eyes of the dwarf. ‘And what a beautiful boy he is,’ Albran chuckled. She cradled Leto close to her chest. The baby crinkled his small straight nose and let out a soft snort.

‘Don’t cuddle him to death, Hawke,’ Varric said with a little warm smile, wiping the tears away.

‘I’ll try not to.’ She looked up at a soft noise and saw Merrill and Sebastian standing in the doorway. The petite elf was in such a hurry that she stumbled over the threshold and would have fallen flat faced if Sebastian hadn’t caught her. She ran over to the bed and stopped in her tracks when her eyes fell on the sleeping baby.

‘Oh Hawke, he is so beautiful!’ she breathed in tears.

Albran was touched by her sincere reaction. So honest and open.  ´You want to hold him?’

‘May I? Really? Oh, I’d love that!’ She took the small body into her arms and Albran was surprised to see her nuzzling him in the same way as she herself had done the moment she had held him close to her. ‘He smells like, like fudge and caramel and sweet chocolate,’ the elf sighed in adoration.

‘He does, doesn’t he,’ Albran smiled.

‘I could gobble him up right here and now. Isn’t he the loveliest thing you ever saw?!’ Merrill turned to Sebastian with glistening eyes.

The Chantry brother glanced back with a bright look. ‘He is,’ he admitted. He nodded at Albran. ‘I’m pleased to see everything is alright with you and Leto. But now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to assist Fenris with removing all the old know-all biddies out of the house. They are fanning all over him and he is getting nervous. I think you can give us a hand here, Varric.’ He nodded again at her. ‘I promise I will come back later to admire your son.’

-

Later that night, or perhaps early morning – both Albran and Fenris had lost track of time – Leto finally had become hungry. Without any hesitation he had found the nipple that would nourish him and now he suckled eagerly, making soft satisfied sounds. His one tiny hand held on to Albran’s breast while the fingers of the other one had clamped around Fenris’s thumb.

‘I could watch this forever and never get tired of it,’ Fenris said. He had laid his free arm around Albran’s shoulders and she had snuggled close to him.

‘Neither would I,’ she said.

‘You were right.’

‘About..?’

‘Naming him Leto. I’d thought you would want to call him after your father or brother, however.’

She shook her head. ‘No. I will remember them in my thoughts as I have always done. But our son has to carry your name. Not a dead person’s name. A living name. And more importantly, like I pointed out before, a name given out of love.’ She waved her free hand and cut him off before he could say anything. ‘Yes, yes. Of course “Malcolm” and “Carver” are names given out of love, or at least respect. But there’s more to this. You may not remember your mother or only have flashes of remembrance about her, she was the one who carried you to term and pushed you into this world.’ She grimaced shortly. ‘And believe me, that’s no small feat.’ Her expression softened again. ‘I want to honour her by passing on that name, even though I’ve never met her and I can’t fathom why she chose that particular name.’ She smiled apologetically. ‘Well, perhaps it is about the dead, after all. But it is also about your history, the little parts you can recall. And that’s far more valuable than anything could be. He is your son also. He deserves to carry your name.’

Fenris was silent for a while, looking at his son, his very contented son.

‘Deserves ...’ he murmured.

‘Yes, Fenris, _deserves_ ,’ she emphasised heatedly. ‘You don’t know half what a wonderful, unique, brilliant and great person you are. I love you, all of you, every inch, every move, every thought, even every flaw as far as you have any.’

Fenris kissed the top of her head. ‘I should have been the one to say that about you.’

Leto chose that moment to let go of the nourishing nipple and let out a little burp. This was followed by a small but very satisfied sigh. It broke the tense and they both laughed.

‘I think that summarizes it all,’ Albran smirked with a soft twinkle in her eyes.

Fenris kissed them both.

‘I think it does,’ he agreed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written this story with a lot of background. I've given birth myself and talked with lots of other mothers and thus know that not one birth is the same as the other. Nevertheless I know also that it is an overwhelming experience. I can only hope I did it credit.
> 
> At the very least: thank you so much for reading this story! Love you all!

**Author's Note:**

> Not such a great surprise, I gather.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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